


Quantum Veil Theory

by Viscariafields



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Fluff, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, minor lace harding/Bram Kenric, solas is not her professor, they aren't even close to being in the same department, very little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 65,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: Lara Lavellan was recruited from her tiny university in Wycome to work for Dr. Pentaghast, studying  radical theories of the Fade and the Veil at the University of Orlais. An intriguing art history professor audits one of her classes. As it turns out, art and physics go better together than she had previously thought.Solas survived all these years and has met Lavellan over and over again. Certain parts of this life seems a little too familiar, however, and he is determined to avoid the cataclysm that befell them once before.





	1. Prologue

"I'm surprised you aren't at the seminar."

Solas looked up from his computer. It was rare that Vivienne came to his office. As a junior lecturer with inferior credentials and prominent ears, they had shoved him in a glorified broom cupboard in the coldest corner of the department.

"Did we have a visiting speaker today? I did not receive an email."

"Oh, not us, darling. The physics department. I know you have your little interests. This one, I hear, has quite some strange ideas about the veil."

Vivienne gave him the details of the seminar. If he left now, he might even be early enough to grab a good seat. The physics department always had superior snacks compared to the art history department.

Encountering the Dean of the Graduate School was a surprise, at least on his part. She seemed to be waiting for him.

"I had hoped you would attend this lecture, Professor."

He poured himself some coffee. "Are you interested in physics as well, Leliana? I have not seen you at other seminars."

"No, my interest here is in the speaker. The topic is a bit over my head. But recruiting talented students with unorthodox ideas who might otherwise have been overlooked... this I can do."

The speaker was an elf, then. Leliana had been on a warpath to integrate the university since her appointment.

"I think you will like this talk, professor. Cassandra tells me her theories are quite... unusual. And of course, it would change how we understand history."

Solas froze. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He kept his tone light with the Dean. "I look forward to fresh ideas."

He kept his head down as he took his seat. He studied his coffee. Over a thousand years and all the technology to improve and change how it was consumed, and it was still bitter and unpleasant. He was growing more certain of what he would see when he looked up. Of _who_ he would see. He stirred in another packet of sugar. Dr. Pentaghast introduced the speaker, and he allowed himself to look up. There she was. _Vhenan_. He wondered what her name was this time. A theoretical physicist. All this time and she could still surprise him. He struggled to focus on her presentation. Instead he was wondering what drove her to choose Mythal's vallaslin this life, what scars she had and how she got them, and how she would humble him this time. He stared at his coffee so as not to stare at her. He would have liked to ask her a question at the end, let her know that her theories were well-delivered and well-received, but he couldn't think of something to say. Thankfully, others in the audience had paid attention to her actual words. He saw Dorian eagerly raising his hand.

Instead, Solas approached her after the seminar as students and faculty filed out. "Your theories on the veil are fascinating." He still hadn't caught her first name.

She pushed her hair behind her ears. She wore it long this life. "Ah, well, I'm afraid I'm considered something of a heretic. It was a nice crowd today, though. I normally get more aggressive questions." She smiled at him. "I didn't know there were any elves in the physics department, Doctor..."

"Professor. Solas. And I'm afraid I'm not in the physics department."

"Oh! Maths then."

"Art history."

Her smile went brittle. "Well. I guess I knew there would be a number of people in the audience here to gawk at the tattooed elf talking physics. If you'll excuse me, professor, I have a number of meetings this afternoon."

Solas could have laughed as she walked away from him. Without fail, he always managed to offend her during their first meeting. He watched her cross the room to Cassandra and Dorian. More of the Inquisition had converged in one place than he'd seen in ages. He'd have to probe Varric to see how many others there were.

"We're trying to convince her to move here," Leliana was at his side again. "It's not standard for graduate students to transfer schools like this, but her adviser agrees that she would have far more opportunities at the University of Orlais than at Wycome."

"And you wanted her to see that there are elven professors here. You recruited Vivienne to encourage me today." Leliana simply smiled. "I'm afraid I might not have had the effect intended."

"Perhaps. But I would not be so sure." Leliana frowned. "Her test scores and undergrad work put her among the top students in her field. But she did not even apply to our university. Had the last dean been worth his salt, he would have been out recruiting talent instead of sucking up to old families. Diversity of background breeds diversity of thought."

Solas hummed to himself. "I think your schemes will bear fruit, Leliana. I have a feeling she will be transferring here."

"I am glad you think so. Getting Cassandra to agree to take her on as a student required far more effort than I am willing to waste."

Solas walked slowly across campus back to his office. He always missed her when she was gone. But he wasn't certain he was ready to face another new Lavellan, to start their cycle again. He could leave. There were always half a dozen ways to escape whatever life he was inhabiting. Taking a position at such a high profile university had been a foolish risk to begin with. He _could_ leave. But he knew he wouldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

In Lara's view, this whole thing had been a setup. Her adviser had gotten mysteriously ill and sent her to Univeristy of Orlais to talk about her work in his place. She knew that wasn't how it was done. Graduate students don't fill in for professors. Especially not when UO had paid for plane tickets, accomodations, and a fancy dinner. And those meetings she'd had were definitely interviews. It was the kind of reception for a potential faculty candidate, not a graduate student from a backwater school who was no where close to finishing her dissertation. 

Dr. Pentaghast had seemed sincere in offering the opportunity to utilize some of the resources available at UO, but Lara had expected some sort of collaboration, not an offer to pack up her life and move to Val Royeaux. And then, in a remarkably traitorous move, her adviser had declared that his funding had dried up, so her options were to move to UO or quit her PhD. She finished the semester, wrapped up her little projects, packed up everything she owned, and got on a plane for the third time in her life. 

So now, here she was, listening to Dr. Asignon mock her credentials, her education, and her theories while sitting in her new adviser's office. 

"All of our students have to TA intro level courses. Why should she get special treatment?" he demanded. 

"She is already scheduled to teach an upper level course, Roderick." Dr. Pentaghast sounded as irritated as Lara felt. Perhaps she would get along with her new adviser. "Asking her to teach the intro course on top of that could affect her research and would be unfair to her."

"Unfair? _Unfair_? Unfair like, oh, I don't know, getting a degree from a top university without the qualifications of half of the students we _reject_?"

Dr. Pentaghast raised her voice now. Lara could see her hands were balled up into fists. "That decision wasn't up to you, and I--"

"I'll do it," Lara interjected. "I'll teach both courses." 

They both turned to look at her. "I taught the intro course at Wycome. I imagine physics isn't so different in Orlais. I would be grateful for the previous year's syllabus and test questions, if those are available. And I've already written up the syllabus for my upper level course on Fade and Veil dynamics." 

Dr. Asignon simply glared at her before waltzing out of the office. Lara looked at Dr. Pentaghast. "Is there a book at least?"  
~~~  
In the end, she'd had to shell out over 100 Royals she didn't have to buy the intro book for the course. At least her other course didn't have a text book-- just scientific papers she would print out for the students. Her stomach sank as she wondered if she would have to pay for the printing. She hadn't found a place to live yet, and her things were sitting stored at a hostel in the alienage. She wasn't getting paid until the end of the month, and any apartment would require first and last month's rent. 

Maybe she'd just live out of the hostel. 

There must be showers on campus somewhere. If she traded napping places often enough, maybe she could get away with not living anywhere at all. She could be a Dalish clan unto herself, roaming the campus. 

She never should have moved to Val Royeaux. 

She sat on a park bench with her physics book and thought about crying. It could help. 

"Physics has often made me feel like crying, too," came a woman's voice. Lara looked up to kind blue eyes and a hand outstretched with a hot beverage. "Here," the woman continued, "I was going to bring this to my sister, but you look like you need this more. It's spiced cider." 

Lara took the drink from the woman and offered her a seat on the bench. "I like physics, actually," she said. "I'm a graduate student." 

"Oh, you poor thing. I should have offered you something a bit stronger than cider." 

Lara cracked a smile. "Moving to Orlais has been... harder than I thought." 

"I know what you mean. I'm from Fereldan originally. I find everyone here smells faintly of cheese. I'm Hawke." She extended a hand. 

"Lara. Are you a student?"

"Nah, I'm just on campus to visit my baby sister. She's pre-med. I was supposed to help her move back into the dorms, but... I got a little distracted." 

"I might have her in my class, then. They're required to take intro physics." 

"I'll make sure to get her to bribe you with some pastries. My parents are really counting on her making something of herself after their first daughter crashed and burned so magnificently. It would be a shame if a bad physics grade held her back." 

Lara snorted. "I think I have a similar story, to be honest." She took a sip of the cider. 

"Well, I'm now late to see Bethany _and_ I don't have an apology drink for her, but give me your number and it will all be worth it." Lara blinked in surprise. Fereldans were apparently very forward. Hawke seemed to hear her own words and laughed. "Not like that! I mean, probably not like that, unless... no. You just said you were new, and I've got some grad student friends at the university I could introduce you to. I think I've seen all of them crying on this exact bench at one point or another." 

Lara was hesitant to give her phone number to a stranger, but in all probability she wouldn't be able to pay the bill come next month, so what was the worst that could happen? She got Hawke's number and walked toward the university library to use the computers there. At least tomorrow she would get to teach the class she really cared about. Eventually she might even get some actual research done, too.   
~~~~  
Lara hadn't said much to Cassandra's other student. He was Tevinter, spoke like a noble, and probably resented her as much as the others seemed to. She was surprised when he showed up to her first lecture on advanced Fade theory. 

He wasn't the only outsider. Another man, definitely not a student, sat in the back of the room. He was an elf, bald, and there was something familiar about him she couldn't place. He seemed intent on avoiding looking directly at her. 

She spent the first five minutes of class waiting for her students to stop gawking at her face. Other than the auditor at the back, she hadn't seen any elves on campus, though Dr. Pentaghast had assured her she wasn't alone. The behavior of her students told her she was definitely the first Dalish some of them had ever seen. At least one of the students tried to take her picture. She forced her way through the syllabus and ended class 20 minutes early. She dreaded to think of what the much larger intro class would be like. 

"Don't be discouraged," the auditor said to her. "The novelty wears off after a few classes. Unless you change your hair or update your vallaslin. Then they will have to take new pictures." 

She laughed bitterly. "I will endeavor to change nothing about myself." The man looked stunned for a moment before smiling warmly at her. 

"Lara?" Dorian dropped a large binder on the lecture desk. 

"If you'll excuse me, um..."

"Solas. And I shall see you at the next lecture."

She nodded at him and turned her attention to Dorian. 

"Odd one, him. I always assumed he came to the seminars for the sweets. Anyway, Cassandra has some messages for you. The first is she had me dredge up the teaching materials for the intro class." He gestured at the enormous binder. Lara could have kissed him for that. "The second is that Roderick cannot compel you to teach two classes, and that they have to pay you extra for one of them."

"How much extra?" she said a little too eagerly. 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember. But it will be added to your stipend checks."

She deflated. She still had a month to go until that came in. "Thanks for this," she said, patting the binder. "You're a real life saver." 

Dorian looked her over. "If you're done teaching for now, let me take the new student out for a meal. No, no," he held his hand up to quell her protestations, "Whatever that bloated shitbag Roderick thinks about your education, every graduate student knows not to turn down free food."

She couldn't argue with that, so she accepted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In college, one of my friends always comforted crying people on benches. What a sweetie. 
> 
> I've had students take pictures of me while I was teaching. Amazingly uncool. Don't recommend.


	3. Chapter 3

"Of course, what I'd really love to study is Fade Entanglement." Dorian spoke with his hands, and small bits of his Rivaini wrap went flying.

Lara wrinkled her nose. "Fade Entanglement? Impossible. The only way to make that work would be to create matching simultaneous rifts in the Veil, which would make the point moot. If you could do that, why would you need the entanglement?" She took a bite of her dinner and munched thoughtfully. "The other option would be to take down the Veil entirely, I suppose."

Dorian smiled. "Why do you think I am so interested in your work? That _is_ what you are working toward, isn't it?"

"My work is entirely theoretical," she sputtered, "And it's about the natural laws of a place that is neither Fade nor this plane, but contains elements of both."

Dorian waved his hands."Yes, yes, that's what you _say_ your research is about, and kudos by the way on pissing off historians, Andrastians, and other physicists with that one, but I've actually _read_ your papers. You think the Veil was man-made, or elf-made, rather, and you think if it went up, it could come down."

Lara stared at him. " _Could_ , yes. But that would be madness! We have no idea what the repercussions of such an event would be..."

"Which is why you have been modeling it. And, with my help, it's why you will win a Genitivi Prize in the Sciences. Do be sure to split the winnings with me when you do."

Lara snorted. "Well I do owe you for dinner."

Dorian brushed this off. "I won't hear of it. Now, let me walk you home. The uninitiated shouldn't have to navigate the unplanned madness that is the streets of Val Royeaux. You'd think the Orlesians had never heard of a grid before."

"I think I can make it myself," Lara lied. "I, um, probably know the way from here."

"Oh? Living nearby? It can be so difficult to find a place close to campus. Still, I could use the walk and you can't be too careful."

Lara started to panic. She hadn't thought of a convincing lie about her living situation yet. After her icy reception at UO, it hadn't occurred to her she might actually make a friend. "Um, actually, I forgot some stuff at the lab, and I have to get some work done for tomorrow. But thanks for dinner, Dorian."

She practically ran her way back to the physics building.  
~~~~~  
Her intro class went as poorly as expected. She was tired, having slept for about four hours in a break room. The lectern was clearly designed for a much taller person, and she could barely see over it. These students were far more brazen about taking photos of her with their phones, then showing them to each other to compare. She remembered taking classes in big lecture halls like this and assuming she would be hidden and unnoticed for the sheer number of students. From the other side, this was laughable. She could count the number of students paying attention to her on one hand. The only bright spot was at the very beginning, when a timid student with long auburn hair and familiar blue eyes shyly handed her a box of Orlesian pastries before sitting herself in the front row.

A few students approached her at the end of class. Their leader, a tall human with a noble's accent, spoke for the group.

"Um, so like, when does the real professor get here?"

Lara frowned. "I'm teaching this class."

"Yeah, like today's class. You're his TA, right? But when does the real one come in?"

Lara kept her expression cool, collected. "If you look at the syllabus, you'll see that I'm the only teacher listed. I'll be teaching you physics this semester."

The student looked her up and down, clearly puzzled. He looked back at his friends, who shrugged. They filed out. Lara wondered how many of them would drop the class. How many of these students could handle an elf grading them? How many parents would call in to complain?

She waited for all the students to leave before peering into her box of pastries and checking out her meals for the day. She would definitely be eating the one covered in walnuts first. She dropped the lid when she heard a knock at the door and hurriedly collected her belongings.

"Sorry, do you have the room next?" She looked up to see the auditor from her other class holding an identical pastry box.

"No, I..." his eyes dropped to the pink box in her hands, and he smiled. "Forgive me. I knew you were lecturing today, and I assumed you might need a pick-me-up afterwards. But I see I was beaten to the punch."

"A student wanted to make a good impression." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "You know my schedule?"

"No, I..." he cleared his throat and shook his head slightly. "I asked Dr. Pentaghast. There aren't many elves at the university, and I thought you could use a friendly face after your lecture."

Lara looked at the face in question. 'Friendly' was not the word she would use to describe it. If she had to choose just one, she might go with 'angular'. At this precise moment, she might also choose 'chagrined.' From a certain vantage, in certain lighting, she could even choose the word 'handsome.'

"Well, I'm not one to turn down free food, so thank you... um..." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Sorry, I've forgotten your name."

He chuckled, low and deep. "Solas."

This all felt strangely familiar to her. "I was just heading to the library. Um... do you know where it is?"

"Yes. Here," he took her boxes from her. "I'll walk you there."

It was a beautiful day outside, and Lara was certain she could have appreciated the beauty of campus if students didn't keep turning their heads to stare at her.

"Aren't there any Dalish in Orlais?" she asked mostly to herself.

"Andaran atishan!" a student shouted at her before turning to giggle with her friends. Two boxes of pastries might not be enough to lighten her mood.

"Most of these students don't come from the countryside and have never been to a real city market," Solas responded. "They study the Dalish through artifacts in museums as if they were history, not a current people living in their world. To them, you are little more than a curiosity."

Lara thought about getting makeup that might cover her tattoos up and let her navigate campus in peace, and a deep rage bloomed inside of her. She changed the subject. "Do you teach here as well, then? A professor?"

"I have been teaching here for the past five years."

She nodded. Had she asked him that already? Creators, she was tired. "Do you know if the library will allow repeated room reservations? Could I schedule to have a room to myself every Tuesday for the semester?"

Solas smiled. "Let me guess. You are required to hold office hours, but nobody has given you an office."

"Well it would practically be sacrilege to give me a permanent space to claim as my own and use to further my work."

Solas laughed heartily at that, almost dropping one of the boxes of pastries.

"Careful," she said while he readjusted his grip, "If you drop the one with walnuts I _will_ cry."

"I would never forgive myself," he said with a smile. "I have delivered you and your precious cargo to the library."

"Ma serranas, lethallin." 

Two boxes of pastries and a smile from a kind elf. That would get her through today. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andaran atishan-- hello  
> ma serranas-- thanks  
> lethallin-- elfy friend
> 
> Something about having Lara repeatedly forget Solas's name makes me laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

The wolf wasn't doing anything particularly aggressive. It was just standing there. It was large, white, and it was staring at her. She idly wondered if there was something on her face, before registering that it was a _wolf_.

She'd been warned about this. "I know who you are," she said to him. If he heard, or cared, he didn't show it. He blinked one of his eyes. "The women of my family talk about you." The wolf simply waited. "Mostly, I think, they wonder if you don't have something better to do." _And if you are some sort of pervert._

Suddenly, a much more intriguing thought dawned on her. If this was the wolf she had been warned about, that meant Lara was in the Fade. A smile spread across her face. She wasn't a mage-- she didn't get to have exciting Fade dreams and dealings with demons. But if the wolf had found her, then she was surely asleep.

She looked around at her surroundings, but they were mostly just green and confusing. "If this is the Fade," she said to the wolf, "I can get some real readings and do some real calculations. All I have to do is summon up the equipment I need."

She closed her eyes and imagined the perfect lab. She started grabbing samples of the ground, the boulders, anything. "If you come closer, I would love to test a strand of your hair. What is a Fade wolf made out of?" The wolf sat back on his haunches. Well, she would only test willing participants.

This wasn't exactly her specialty. She hadn't done any sort of wet lab work in ages, but if she wanted proper models, she needed this information. Could she imagine up support staff? How fast could she get the numbers? And how clearly would she remember them in her waking world?

She became aware of an irritating noise somewhere in the back of her head. She tried to push it away, but it got louder. It sounded... male. And human. She groaned as she opened her eyes and Dorian stood above her.

"Don't interrupt my work," she complained.

"Lara, you're drooling across your notebooks."

"I was having the most..." she paused. Even had she been able to analyze a single aspect of the Fade, any results would have come out of her own brain. Every part of that dream was a reflection of her own stupid thoughts. "... _idiotic_ dream," she finished.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Well you can finish that dream at home, in bed."

She yawned. "I am in bed. Go away."

Dorian frowned at her. "You do... actually have a bed, don't you? And a place to live?"

 _Shit_. Lara opened her mouth, but nothing came to her. "Don't tell Dr. Pentaghast," she begged.

Dorian looked baffled. "Out of curiosity," he said slowly, "What do you think her reaction would be?"

Lara didn't have an answer. Maybe she had too many. Cassandra would realize this Dalish nobody was a mistake, and send her back to the Marches. Kick her out of the program she never was supposed to be in. Torch her reputation and her possibility of ever finding a job, much less another adviser. Laugh at her. Pity her.

She shrugged. "I did try to find a place, but every time I showed up to tour an apartment, suddenly all the units were occupied."

Dorian's face shifted slowly as he understood. He pinched his nose, swearing under his breath in Tevene. "We are solving this tonight." He whipped out his cell phone. "Amatus? Does anyone have a free room right now? Or even a spare sofa? No, I can't have a drink, this is urgent. No. Of course not. I... Yes, fine, I'll meet you at the Ladybird." He ended the call and offered his arm to Lara. "Shall we?"

She had nowhere to go and very little to lose, so she went.

Lara wasn't sure what she expected. Ladybird sounded like an Orlesian strip club, and Amatus sounded like a distinctly Tevinter name. Instead, Dorian led her down a lively street to a bar with plenty of outdoor seating. He stopped at a table with an enormous Qunari, an elf with unfamiliar tattoos, and the woman who had befriended her on the park bench. Lara wondered if they had chosen the outside because the Qunari wouldn't be able to fit through the door. He stood up to shake her hand when they were introduced, and she thought she might fall backwards on the concrete looking up at him.

No sooner had introductions ended than a beer was thrust into Dorian's hand, and he began lamenting the state of graduate school employment.

"Can you believe this? University of Orlais, the second best university in all of Thedas--"

"Only if you ask a Vint," Hawke whispered in Lara's ear, "Everyone else pins it at number one."

"--teaching the best and brightest young minds in the world--"

"--or the ones whose parents donated a building--"

"--Can't even properly pay its own lecturers so that they can make rent. It's an outrage."

"Here, here!" Hawke cheered.

"I think the part that's hardest to believe is a Tevinter complaining about unfair wages. At least it's in favor of an elf this time," Fenris said flatly.

Dorian placed a hand delicately on his chest. "You very well know that I cast off all the trappings of my Tevinter lifestyle!"

Fenris looked nonplussed. "Doesn't your mother still secretly pay your phone bill?"

"And that is what allows me to buy all of you another round. Drinks!" Dorian left the table.

Fenris smiled at Lara. "Finally. Reparations." She smiled shyly back at him.

Hawke poked Bull in the ribs. "How are you not exhausted all the time with him?"

"Huh? Sorry, were you all talking?"

Hawke rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Lara. "You should have told me that day that you didn't have anywhere to stay."

Fenris shook his head. "Frankly I'm shocked you found a crying girl on a bench and didn't immediately take her home."

"I wasn't actually crying," Lara muttered, but nobody was listening to her. It reminded her of home. Everyone talking over each other, the deep familiarity they all had, and Lara falling into the background of it... It was comfortable. She hadn't expected to find that here. Especially with such an odd group of people. It made her want to call home.

"Krem might have some space," The Iron Bull said.

Hawke shook her head. "No, Isabela has been spending far too much time there, I don't think she wants to deal with that. What about Trevelyan?"

"We can't set her up with Dorian's ex. He's already adopted her as a cause."

Lara thought about objecting-- she was not up for adoption. But nobody seemed to be paying attention to her. Bull and Hawke whipped out their phones and started going through their contacts, debating the relative merits of each one. Others started arriving and joining the table, most of them non-human and none of them Orlesian. Dorian came back with drinks and immediately had to go find more. Arguments broke out about who had the most comfortable sofa or the best water pressure. In the end, Lara found herself falling asleep at the table, and Fenris nudged her.

"I probably don't have the fluffiest pillows or the best breakfast food, but my apartment is upstairs from this bar and you can be in bed away from these people in five minutes."

Lara nodded. "Take me there."  
~~~~  
Lara woke up and practically threw herself out of bed. Had she accepted an invitation from a complete stranger to sleep in his apartment? Was she out of her mind? She tiptoed around the place, looking for the man. He wasn't there. Or he was hiding somewhere, ready to pounce. Or out buying weapons to murder her with. She deadbolted the door.

She checked the time. 4am. She had a new text.

 _Hawke_  
_11:45pm_  
_Fenris thought he'd give you the apartment to yourself. He's sleeping elsewhere tonight. Feel free to sleep in, if you can. Also help yourself to breakfast, if he has any food._

She rubbed her eyes. When it came down to it, was sleeping in break rooms around campus or a shared space in a hostel any less dangerous?

She got back in the bed that smelled strongly of stranger. Maybe there were nice people in Val Royeaux, if one knew where to look. Or maybe she'd wake up dead in the morning.  
~~~~  
_Hawke_  
_1:33pm_  
_Where are you keeping your stuff?_

 _You_  
_1:34pm_  
_A hostel in the alienage. Why?_

 _Hawke_  
_1:36pm_  
_Don't worry about it. Which one? Aren't you worried about people stealing stuff?_

 _You_  
_1:36pm_  
_Don't own anything of value. Umm, I think it's Madame Blue's Hostel._

 _Hawke_  
_2:15pm_  
_Sweet Andraste, how are you still alive?_

Lara silenced her phone. Had Hawke gone to the alienage? Why? And why had she answered her? Lara put her head in her hands. She'd been a student for too long. Someone asked her a question, she answered. It didn't matter. She was still drowning in learning about Pentaghast's work so she could one day actually contribute to the research of the lab. If she went through all of this only to get thrown out... But she didn't have time to think about that. She stared at the research paper before her and wondered why anyone wanted to study something so _boring_.  
~~~~  
Lara waited by the door as her upper level students passed her the papers they would present during the semester. Most of the choices were reasonable, and some she knew they would tear apart in class. Her auditor stood last in line. He looked... pleased. "Solas," she said, congratulating herself on remembering his name. She looked down at the paper he planned to present and frowned. "You want to present _my_ research paper?" She looked him up and down. "You aren't taking this course for a grade. You don't have to suck up to the teacher."

"I thought I could utilize the rare opportunity to talk to world's leading expert in the field."

She tried not to roll her eyes. "You want to pick my brain in front of 15 seniors? Buy a girl a drink first."

Solas cleared his throat, and Lara's eyes snapped open wide. "I didn't mean--"

"I _would_ like to buy you a coffee," he said quickly, "if that's agreeable."

She looked up into his eyes, and found she couldn't say no. It felt like he was staring straight through her. Her heart started pounding. She nodded. The corner of his lips tugged into a smile. She had the strangest feeling, like she knew exactly what it would feel like to kiss him just there...

She was staring. "Um, but not now," she sputtered, "Phone number. Yours. Or mine. Both, probably."

He had no right to look so smug as he handed her his phone. She tapped in what she hoped was her number and handed it back. His hand grazed hers, and she knew it was on purpose. His heart was pounding, too. She couldn't risk looking at him. "So, um, text me, or whatever, and coffee. Yeah."

"Dareth shiral, lethallan."

Lara turned off the light in the classroom and put her head in her hands. What had just happened? Had she just... did she just hit on a student? A student who was older than she was and also a faculty member and also he was the one who has asked her out... What department was he even in? How badly had she just ruined her own life? Why had she said yes? She searched frantically for her phone and switched it off silent. She had to know when he texted. Sweet creators, she hoped she'd given him the right phone number. 

A flood of messages waited for her. Hawke had been texting her all afternoon, the last one saying, "nevermind, don't read the other texts." There was also a text from an unknown number.

 _Unknown Number_  
_4:15pm_  
_This is Fenris. Hawke gave me your number. Meet me at Ladybird when you're free. Try not to give Hawke any more pieces of personal information you don't want shared._

She frowned at this text. She had slept in his bed. She had used his shower. He wanted to meet her at a bar. He had her phone number. Did he... was she dating this man, now? She responded that she was heading over and started walking.

Fenris was leaning against the facade of the building when she arrived. He smoothly tossed something at her, which she did not catch. She reached into the gravel to find a set of keys. When she stood upright, Fenris was now standing straight and looking mildly embarrassed. 

"The apartment is yours," he said, looking away from her. "Landlord said he'd come by later to meet you."

Lara stared at the keys in her hand. "What?" 

"I moved out this morning. Hawke already moved all of your things into it. I told her that unpacking for you was a breach of privacy but... my arguments were unconvincing." 

Lara stared at Fenris now. "What?"

"You did me a favor, really. Helped me make a decision I should have made over a year ago." 

_What?_

Fenris started to leave. "You should know, though. This bar is a favorite of everyone's. Hard to avoid people sometimes." He looked at his phone. "I need to leave. Got a bus to catch."

Lara stared at the bar in front of her. "What?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My other fic is getting angstier, so here is a chapter where everyone is much nicer to Lara.


	5. Chapter 5

Lara gingerly took a couple steps into the apartment. Her apartment. Apparently. She scrolled through the texts Hawke had told her to ignore, and saw a series of questions. Did she have sheets? Pots and pans? Silverware?

She opened a cabinet as if it might explode. It was full of mismatched plates and cups. She tiptoed to the bedroom. The dresser already contained all of her clothes. The framed photo she had brought of her family was sitting on top of it.

She jumped at a knock at the door. She went to the peephole and didn't immediately see anyone. She heard a man clear his voice, and looked down to find a dwarf with a ponytail. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._ Her heart began pounding. Was there a fire escape? Was she going to be arrested for trespassing?

"I know you're in there. Look, I have keys, but I figure it's more polite to let you open the door yourself."

"Um, yes?" she asked from behind the door. Did Fenris owe someone money? Was this all an elaborate trap?

"Varric Tethras. Landlord. I'm here to meet my replacement elf. I guess I can do it from the hallway, but it would be nicer to see who I'm talking to."

She opened the door a fraction. "I didn't... I didn't steal anything," she said reflexively. She put her hand to her head. That just made her sound _more_ guilty. And was it a crime to add more things to an apartment that didn't belong to you? What was the opposite of stealing?

Varric pushed the door open. "Relax, kid. I got the whole story from Hawke, right before she and the broody elf ran off together." He looked her up and down as she twisted her hands together. "Well, you've got Fenris's complexion, tattoos and big eyes. I can see why Hawke taking an interest would make him realize it was time to lock that down."

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong, I was rooting for the two of them, but this town is going to be quieter without her." He sighed. "Ah, young love. Anyway, Fenris paid through the month, so you're good for now."

She glared at him. "So... you're not going to make me leave?"

"Do I look that heartless? Nah, kid. You can stay. I figure a graduate student at UO must be somewhat responsible. If you don't have the rent, we'll work something out."

Lara's eyes narrowed. This man had a suspicious amount of visible chest hair for a landlord offering to 'work something out.' She took a step back from him.

Varric held his hands up. "Andraste's ass, not like that. I meant like a payment plan or something. Or shit, work the bar some nights for extra cash. Why do all the elves I meet treat kindess with suspicion?" He rubbed his eyes. "You know what, no, don't answer that. I don't want to ruin my day."

He turned to leave. "Enjoy the apartment," he called over his shoulder.

Lara stood in her own little apartment overlooking a busy little street with shops and cafes. It was small, but it was clean and it was hers. She got to work opening every drawer she could find.  
~~~~  
Lara twisted her hands in her lap. She had read every paper out of Dr. Pentaghast's lab for the last seven years. Perhaps she should have gone back further.

"I hope your first week at the university has gone well." Lara nodded without lifting her eyes, trying to remember the exact model used in the last paper. Dr. Pentaghast sighed dramatically. "I didn't know that they didn't invite you to orientation. They have one, for the graduate students, so they can meet each other and make friends and learn about resources on campus. You should have been included." Her jaw was jutting out in frustration. "We are still working out the kinks."

She pushed a pamphlet over to Lara. Lara glanced down at it to see "The Basics of Culture Shock." She wasn't certain what to do.

"When I first moved to Val Royeaux, I thought I was adjusting well. Then, one day, I suddenly exploded, shouting at a barrista who had the audacity to recommend a flavored coffee to me. It was humiliating. I went back later to leave a hefty tip."

Lara could not imagine being on the receiving end of this woman's anger. She made a mental note to never bring her coffee.

"What I am saying is that you can be affected by this city in ways you do not expect. And it can make you act in ways you do not expect. Perhaps you have already experienced this."  
Lara considered the two weeks she'd spent in Val Royeaux, sleeping in strangers' beds, accepting food from anyone who offered, and generally having this curiously detached feeling about her own decisions. It was like she was floating down a river just barely keeping her head up as new obstacles appeared in her path. She nodded.

Dr. Pentaghast gestured to the pamphlet. "I do not know if this will be terribly useful to you. But who am I to say?" Lara took it and put it in her pack.

"One more thing. I am your adviser, and I will advocate for you in any way I can. But one mentor is not always enough. There are certain... cultural things that I will have no experience with. Finding multiple mentors can help bridge that gap."

Lara chewed on this as she left Cassandra's office. She knew that 'cultural' was a euphemism for 'elf,' but she appreciated the sentiment. Of course, the only elf in a position to act as a mentor had recently asked her for coffee. Perhaps he had meant it that way, as well. A mentoring coffee. But she thought about the way he had looked at her, and she knew it was more than that. Or maybe she wanted it to be more than that.

She thought about the pamphlet in her bag and wondered if she could trust her own judgment. She had thought that Hawke and Fenris had both been hitting on her as well, and obviously that wasn't true.

In any case, it wasn't like he had texted her yet.

And when it came down to it, Lara knew how to kill a mood.  
~~~~  
Solas always ruined his first meeting with her.

His favorite was when he had come across her as an old woman. Her hair was pure white, but still straight and thick and clearly cared for. She leaned heavily on a stick, and she was soft and wrinkled, and he still would have recognized her anywhere.

He had unthinkingly called her 'da'len.'

She had rapped him on the shins with her walking stick for the impertinence.

He kept this in mind as he attempted to write a text message. The rules of courtship were always changing. Did the time of day matter for when he sent the text? Certainly asking someone too late at night would be rude. Should he engage in small talk before asking her for the meeting? But then, he had asked her in person already. The internet could probably shed light on this etiquette, but then it would tell him what he already knew.

He was a foolish old man.

 _You_  
_1:23pm_  
_Hello, Lara. This is Solas._

 _Lara_  
_1:36pm_  
_Sorry, bro. She gave you the wrong number._


	6. Chapter 6

Lara was hungry. She kept telling herself if she could just hold out for the afternoon seminar, she could grab some free snacks and not spend any money on lunch. Dorian waved to her distractedly as she entered the lab.

"Someone left something for you at your desk." His eyes didn't leave leave his computer. She glanced over at her desk and saw something tied up in green ribbon. Other than Solas, who still hadn't texted, she couldn't think of anyone on campus who had shown any particular interest in her.

"Been here all of a week and she has a secret admirer," Dorian muttered to his screen.

Lara picked up the bag and stared at the label.

_Madame Lapinette's Finest Rabbit Food_

_For the discerning bunny_

Her stomach turned. Her students didn't know where she worked, so this must have been left by someone in the department. Someone she was about to attend a seminar with. Someone who had enough money that they could waste it on pet food they didn't need just to let her know they hated her.

"Well, let's see what your new lover has left you."

Lara jumped. She hadn't heard Dorian approach. He plucked the bag out of her stunned hands and slowly frowned. "Ah. Not a lover, then." He threw the pet food in a bin and began rummaging through a drawer. "Here we are," he said, retrieving a key. He pressed it into her hand. "It seems it's time to begin locking the lab again."

Lara fished the pet food out of the trash. Dorian frowned at her, but she shrugged. "Someone out there probably needs to feed a rabbit. Might as well donate it or something."

She plopped the bag back on her desk and sat down to do some work. 'Work' was a generous term for it. She was still learning how to use the software in their lab. Right now she couldn't even run equations she'd already published when she was back in Wycome. Every moment she was falling impossibly behind.

Dorian hadn't returned to his station yet. "Would it surprise you if I told you I was a mage?"

Lara didn't even blink. "You're a Tevinter physicist. Of course you're a mage."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Yes, well, if I ever find out which shithead did this, he will find his hard  drives inexplicably melted."

Lara smiled, but as her eyes fell on the rabbit food again, her expression soured. She shoved it out of sight in her backpack. Perhaps it was time to take Cassandra's advice and find an elven mentor. Still, she didn't want it to be Solas.

She opened the university's web page and began searching through lists of professors. She clicked on promising names to find pictures, but nary a pointed ear presened itself. There were hundreds of professors. This could take hours. Even if she did find someone, what would she say? _Hello, city elf professor. I am a lonely Dalish elf who needs a hug every time she's called a rabbit. Please mentor me in growing a thicker skin._

Giving up, she put Solas's name in the search bar. She could at least figure out what department he was in.  
~~~~  
_You_  
_3pm_  
_In a hypothetical situation in which a woman provides her number, but it is incorrect, should one bring it up when one sees her again?_

Varric  
_3:01pm_  
_Holy shit, Chuckles. You and a woman? Meet me at the bar. I want to know everything._

 _You_  
_3:01pm_  
_I am at work._

 _Varric_  
_3:02pm_  
_Those ancient artists aren't going anywhere, and you aren't making any big discoveries from that closet you call an office._

A knock at his door brought Solas's attention away from his phone. Lara peeked her head in.

"Lethallan!" he said, hurriedly shoving the phone in his pocket, "Come in." Perhaps this problem could solve itself.

Lara looked miserable, possibly like she was regretting knocking on the door. "Sorry, did I disturb you? I could come by some other time..."

"Now is fine," he said a bit too eagerly. He settled his features. "What can I do for you?"

She slowly walked over the threshold to his office. He gestured to the empty chair, and she took it, sitting on the very edge. She studied the small office, her eyes lingering on the one painting he could fit on the wall. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the canvas, as if she was trying to place it. He hoped she would ask about it.

"I know this is out of the blue," she said, "but are you familiar with other professors here? Um, I mean other elf professors, specifically."

This was not the question he had been expecting. Solas brought his hand to his chin in thought. "I know that since the appointment of President Justinia there has been a large push to diversify the faculty and recruit more elves, but I cannot say I have been introduced to any of the new hires personally. And it seems Leliana is serious about changing the graduate school as well. However, I started my work here solely on the strength of my expertise in the field, before the current move to increase the number of elves at the university."

Lara went very quiet. She seemed to be studying her hands. Suddenly she stood up, and Solas followed suit. "Sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you," she said, "It was a stupid thought." Before he could respond, she blurted out, "I know that most people think I don't deserve to be here. That I'm just filling some quota for Leliana. But I didn't think that you..." She shook her head and turned on her heel. Without looking at him, she left his office, her backpack slamming into the door frame in her rush to leave.

Solas stood gripping his desk, replaying the conversation in his head. The mistake was easily identified. His next step was less clear. She was young. He could disappear for twenty years, see what she made of herself this time. Or perhaps he could just stop taking her class. Let her focus on her life without the distractions he inevitably brought her. He closed his eyes and felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

 _Varric_  
_3:19pm_  
_Come on, Chuckles. I need inspiration for my next serial._  
_You_  
_3:25pm_  
_I fear it would be a short story. I managed to imply she was only hired as part of a diversity initiative._

 _Varric_  
_3:25pm_  
_So she's an elf at the university then. Interesting._

Solas shoved his phone back in his pocket and stared at the painting on the wall. He supposed he had just lied to Varric. This was a very long story. She had painted this for him years ago. A woman sat, her face demurely pointed away from the viewer. A black wolf had lain his head across her lap. A burst of sunflowers sat behind her. The colors were vibrant, the outlines soft. She had started it as a joke, painting him as a comfortable lap dog in a lady's home. But as she completed it, the comfort of the pose between woman and wolf, the familiarity, the ease of expression between them-- they spoke of love. It had been too long since he had felt that from her. The draw was powerful.  
~~~~  
Lara went straight home. She kicked her shoes off, dropped her backpack on the floor, and fell asleep the moment her body hit the mattress. She did not wake until well into the next day, which was blessedly a Saturday.

She was immediately embarrassed by her meeting with Solas.

She knew that she had been recruited as part of some bizarre and poorly executed diversity measure. She also knew she was as qualified as anyone else. And Solas hadn't known she'd been carrying fucking rabbit food in her void-damned backpack when she went to see him. His arrogance and certainty about his position simply rankled.

Being in his office hadn't helped, either. She preferred to think of him as an auditor, someone who drifted into her classroom and then drifted away. And that painting... it wasn't the style of art she had expected him to favor. Something about it itched in her mind. She had dreams of rooms full of sunflowers and hands covered in paint that she couldn't seem to clean. 

She got in the shower to wash the embarrassment off. She was going to have to apologize for leaving like that. At least give him a chance to clarify what he said. Her classroom would feel much lonelier without him.


	7. Chapter 7

Lara didn't dwell too much on the email she sent to Solas. A quick apology for overreacting, assurances she hoped he would continue in her class, and a sign off. If he came to class on Tuesday, good. If not, all the better for her to focus her attention on the undergraduates and things she actually cared about, like maths.

She had cleared out Fenris's cupboards, and now they were pitifully empty of food. She was going to have to brave the streets and spend some money. She looked in the mirror to see if she could make the journey less painful, but it was hopeless. She could style her hair to hide her tattooed face, don a large hat to cover her ears, dress in the most Orlesian fashion possible, and everything about her would still scream "Foreigner!" Did it really matter if her hair was brushed or her eyeliner smudged? She tried not to feel entirely defeated as she worked the snarls out of her hair.

 _You_  
_2:03pm_  
_Dorian, what do poor people eat in Orlais? Like what foods do people live on when they can't afford rent? Beans? Noodles?_

 _Dorian_  
_2:05pm_  
_Wine, I expect._

She trudged down the stairs and cut through the bar, hoping to avoid people for as long as possible. It was early enough in the day that it shouldn't be terribly busy, but this was Val Royeaux, and nobody had anything better to do than sit around sipping wine. Her eyes spotted an unlikely pair in the corner, and she froze. Her landlord sat facing her, and across from him was a bald-headed elf in a bizarrely tight-fitting sweater. Nobody else dressed that way. She tried to slip out, but Varric noticed her and waved. She saw his lips move as he spoke to Solas, and now he was looking at her, too, with an expression of irritation. She couldn't run away from him twice in two days, so she steeled herself.

Solas stood up in an oddly formal manner as she approached their table. "Professor Lavellan." She was surprised he didn't bow as he said it.

"Solas. I just wrote you an email." The words came out clumsily. "I suppose you haven't, um, well, anyway, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn't have... um."

Solas mercifully interrupted her. "It is I who should apologize. I should have chosen my words more carefully."

Varric tilted his head at Solas, his eyes shifting between him and Lara. He was grinning. "So, Chuckles, you've already met my newest tenant? Although 'tenant' is a generous term at this point. She's more of a welcome squatter."

Lara's eyes went wide and she dropped her gaze to the floor. She regretted ever leaving the safety of her ill-gotten apartment.

Varric softened his tone. "Relax, prof, I'm joking. I won't throw a helpless yet brilliant elf onto the street."

"He would gladly take your money playing cards, however," Solas jibed.

Lara forced a smile as her heart beat in her ears. As if she would ever wager actual money on a card game. She managed to meet their eyes again.

"You don't have to call me professor. I don't even make the undergrads do that."

Varric shrugged. "I think it suits you. You look like someone in need of a title."

Solas gave Varric a puzzled look, and Lara was glad she wasn't the only one. "I'm not actually a proper professor. I think my title would be 'lecturer.'" _As if anyone at the university would call me by a title more dignified than 'knife-ears.'_

"Too late, Professor."

Lara stared back at her feet again. "I suppose it's better than 'Chuckles,'" she muttered.

Solas genuinely laughed at that, and the sound drew a smile to her downturned face. Varric excused himself abruptly, and Lara was certain he winked at Solas as he walked away. Her stomach rumbled loud enough for Solas to hear, and she knew if she didn't eat soon, a nasty headache was in future.

"Have you eaten lunch?" Solas asked.

"No." She shook her head, and instantly regretted it as the world wobbled around her. "Nor breakfast. Nor dinner, I think. I was on my way to search for a grocery store."

"Ah. I should let you complete your mission, then. Unless... I know the area well," he offered, "I could show you around, if you like."

She was too hungry to consider the question very long. She consented, and they strode into the sunlight. Her face immediately drew looks, but somehow it was easier to bear with another elf alongside her. Solas didn't seem to notice the attention. He simply pointed out places he thought could be useful to her as well as stores to avoid.

As her stomach rumbled loudly again, Solas insisted they stop for a sandwich. Lara warily agreed, trying to remember how much cash she had on her and wondering if it was time to admit defeat and ask her family for some money. Solas interrupted her thoughts by paying for her food along with his, which irked her. Once their food arrived, however, her irritation dissipated.

"I think this is the best sandwich I've ever eaten," she said, her mood shifting wildly now that two-thirds of it was sitting happily in her belly.

"Would you like another?" Solas asked with a smile, and though a small voice inside of her felt defensive, she was _not_ a starving Dalish girl in need of rescue, a much bigger part of her was tempted by the offer. "Truthfully, I mostly come here for the dessert. I'm fond of the tiramisu."

"I've never had it," she said, wondering if Orlesians licked their fingers. She looked around the shop and decided not to risk it. Solas returned to the counter, apparently ordering more food. He looked very pleased with himself as he sat down across from her again.

"Now that you are properly fed, I believe I was promised the opportunity to 'pick your brain.'"

"I don't remember there being any promises involved," she said with a smile. A server set down two cups of coffee on their table. Lara was almost disappointed to see he hadn't, in fact, gotten her a second sandwich. The server returned a moment later, however, with some fluffy layered dessert that must have been tiramisu. She tentatively stuck a fork in it.

"Why physics?"

Lara hated this question. There was always an undertone behind it. What led someone like _you_ to study something better left to other people? Shouldn't a little Dalish girl study something like history, or better yet be at home with the clan with three babies on her hip, naked and howling at the moon?

"Why art history?" she countered.

Solas smiled. "Art shows us what a culture most valued. How the people saw themselves and how they wished to be seen. Which subjects they deemed worthy of memorializing, and which were absent. Everything in a work of art reveals an aspect of the culture that produced that work. Are they posed, sedate, or in motion? Which objects are given prominence, and which are absent? Do they depict daily life of common people, or are only the rich and powerful represented? Are the works large, for public consumption, or small, for private residences, or even smaller, to hold on one's person? Was art the purview of the common people, or hidden away only for the elite? Every detail is revealing."

Lara was spellbound as he talked. When he finished, she studied her coffee. She idly wondered how popular his classes were. "That sounds like the introduction to your book."

The corner of his mouth pulled into a grin. "You've read it?"  
She couldn't hold back the smile dawning across her face. "No, you just... sound like you've written three or four."

His mouth hung open, speechless for a moment. Lara pressed her lips together to try to stop grinning. "I'm working on my fifth," he admitted. The laughter spilled from her mouth. She decided he deserved a fair answer after his own speech.

"I like physics," she said simply, "And I'm good at math. At home, I grew up listening to mages talk about the Fade and watching the sky at night. There are so many more stars in the country. They sky feels so much lower and more oppressive in cities. But I grew used to that in Wycome."

"What drew you to study the Veil?"

"Learning that it was created, and the implications for the natural properties of the world before its creation... There is so much room there for imagination. Perhaps literally, depending on the true nature of the Fade."

"The true nature?" Solas finished his tiramisu, and she pushed her almost untouched one toward him.

"The Fade isn't just a place. It acts as both an object and an energy source. There is nothing on this plane like it. Light might be the closest, both a particle and a wave. But there is no domain that is pure light that we can enter. And people can't channel light. Althought they do emit it, particularly around 4pm, but most aren't aware of that. The Fade is enormously more complicated, and to me that makes it more fascinating."

"So you create mathematical models of it?" He ate her unfinished dessert.

"I'm not a mage, so that's about the best I can do. I never even had proper Fade dreams until I moved here. But we know from ancient records that our ancestors were able to accomplish feats of magic that aren't currently possible. And they had access to elements and materials that can't exist here. So, I write papers about what those things might have been and I imagine what we could use them for now."

"That's remarkable," he said sincerely.

Lara laughed. "Most people would call it a waste of time. Why theorize about impossibilities? But thank you for listening. Most people's eyes glaze over the moment I start talking about this stuff."

"I did _choose_ to audit your class."

"You're not going to drop it?"

"I considered it when it became apparent you dislike tiramisu, but you had the good sense to offer yours to me. Regardless, I find it very interesting to learn about the Fade from this vantage."

Lara nodded to herself and scanned the shop before leaning across the table, saying in a conspiratorial whisper, "I thought you looked like a mage."

Solas leaned forward as well. "And what, pray tell, does a mage look like?"

She looked him up and down very slowly, making her point. As she brought her eyes back up, he caught her gaze and held it. Her breath hitched in her throat for a moment, and she broke his intense stare.

She cleared her throat. "Shall we find a grocery store?" 

"Of course."

~~~~

Solas gave Lara her privacy while she shopped. He doubted she needed him to help her decide which brand of ramen to buy. He sat on a bench outside the grocery and checked his emails. Orlais might stop all work on a sunny weekend, but his contacts in the Free Marches worked with an unmatched urgency. What they studied was ancient and unchanging, and somehow someone always needed results instantly. 

He also had texts from Varric. 

 _Varric_  
_2:34pm_  
_She's too young for you, and way too smart you._

 _Varric_  
_2:34 pm_  
_So did you get her real number yet?_    _I could get it from Hawke_

Solas decided not to tell Varric the success of today's lunch. Lara  _was_ young, and defensive, and coping poorly with Orlais. She needed a friend and a week's worth of sleep. Solas also wasn't ready to be in another of Varric's books. Somewhere in a lock box, he possessed one of the last remaining copies of the Tale of The Inquisitor (renamed by demand of his publishers). Over a thousand years old, careful magic had prevented it from turning to dust. The Varric of that time had not lived to finish its sequel, Downfall of the Dread Wolf. He kept a copy of that, too, though he had never opened it. 

Lara emerged from the store, her backpack bulging with goods. "Do you need me to carry anything?" he asked, though he could see her hands were empty. 

"I'm good." 

They walked back to the bar in relative silence. Solas allowed his mind to drift as they walked down the busy streets. Lara pulled him out of his reverie. 

"Why do you suppose it's green?" 

Solas looked around for an obvious reference to her question. "Pardon?"

"The Fade. Why green? Why only one color?" 

"You dreamt of the raw Fade?" he asked. 

"It could be a physical property that makes it green. The memories certainly aren't entirely green, so the color must be important. Is it emitting or reflecting green light? I'll need to talk to a chemist." 

Solas had heard others discuss the color of the Fade before, particularly after they had all fallen out of it at Adamant, but he had never considered how the color might be an important clue as to its composition. 

"Is it green for you, too?" she asked. "My sister used to tell me all of her Fade dreams, but she never mentioned color. Just spirits and memories and demons." 

"You have a sister?" he asked, but she was pulling out her phone. This conversation, it seemed, was more to herself than to him. She texted quickly, then dropped her phone back in her pocket without waiting for a reply. 

"Sorry?" she asked. 

He shook his head, bemused. "We have arrived, lethallan." 

She looked around at her surroundings as if noticing them for the first time and then smiled. "Ma serranas, lethallin. I have to go learn about the color green!" 

Solas waved at her once as she rushed off into the bar. He still didn't have her number. He supposed he knew where to find her if necessary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think this fic wouldn't be filled with physics and Fade nerds? 
> 
> Any guesses as to who our chemist will be?


	8. Chapter 8

Lara entered the lab nervously. All wet labs looked essentially the same: wooden cabinets, black countertops, high shelves. Lucky labs had windows. Unlucky labs had flickering fluorescent lights. The only differences in labs tended to be the equipment sitting on the counter and the level of organization of the supplies.

This lab was chaos. The benches were packed with reagents and equipment and weigh boats and pipettes and test tubes. Every inch was covered, and labels everywhere marked which areas were toxic or explosive and _please_ do not touch. Even the white board was covered in chaotic illegible scribbles, though strangely they only covered the bottom half. The top half was as white as freshly driven snow.

Lara stood with her hands clenched tightly to her side, trying not to breathe too hard in case there were particles in the air. She heard noises around the corner, and she tentatively stuck her head into a side room.

A red-headed woman was standing on a step stool at a ventilation hood. The sash was thrown up to the top, and she had angled most of her body into the hood. She was fiddling with an elaborate setup of Bunsen burners, glass tubing, and varying powders and fluids.

Lara cleared her throat. She didn't want to surprise her while she was doing... whatever this was. She scuffed her feet a little. Cleared her throat louder. Tapped on the table behind her. The woman in the hood started humming. Lara used her voice.

"Excuse me?"

The woman jerked up, hitting her head on the sash.

"Oh! You're her!" she said, rubbing her head. "The physicist! I didn't know you'd be an elf. That's so cool! And you study the Fade?"

No one had ever told Lara that it was 'cool' that she was an elf. She'd let it slide. "Actually, I'm theorizing about the physical properties of a world with no Veil."

The woman who must be Dagna hopped off her step stool. "That. Would be. _Amazing_. Can you even imagine?"

"Well it's sort of my job to..."

"I can't even dream! No one even told me the Fade was green. That's what your email said, right? Green?"

The experiment in the hood seemed to be sparking a lot. Small plumes of smoke were rising. "I think that your--"

"I've had a lot of thoughts about that. I mean, whatever the Fade is, it's not here, so we can't just look at green rocks and call it a day. Otherwise it wouldn't be Fade. That's the whole point of the Veil, right? But what if some got in through a tear or something? I've read about early scientists who tried to collect Fade material. Weird stuff happened to them supposedly. But can you imagine if we found one of those ancient labs? They must have had access to the most amazing things during the Dragon Age. That shit sounded crazy."

"Dagna, I think your experiment is on fire."

"What?" Dagna turned her head. The entire hood was emitting flames. "Not again," she muttered as she pulled the sash all the way closed. "It'll burn itself out eventually."

"But what about--" Small explosive pops marked the death of her glassware.

"Yeah. That happens. Just, uh, don't tell my PI." Dagna sighed at the hood again before walking to a different lab bench. She hopped up on another step stool, and Lara noticed they were scattered through the lab.

"I found some papers about common traits of green stuff, and I wrote some notes so you could understand them," she said, moving a box of bubble-wrapped beakers and procuring some papers from under it. "You might want to talk to a physicist who works in color theory, though. Or just wait until your department's secret project is ready to punch through the Veil. And then make sure to bring me some rocks. Lots of them, in case some of them get set on fire."

Lara blinked several times. "Our _what_?"

Dagna pushed the papers into her hand. "Didn't they tell you? I figured that's why you moved here with what you're studying. It's supposed to be a big secret, but professors are such gossips. Supposedly they've built some secret lab with the goal of making a stable hole in the Veil. I'd ask that Tevinter guy." Dagna paused, then covered her mouth with her hand. "I guess that's an awful stereotype, huh? Don't tell him I said that."

"Are you... is this a joke?" Lara asked. Punch through the Veil? Why would anyone...?

"No! I mean I could be wrong. It is supposed to be a big secret. But that's because the Andrastians would lose their shit. I mean can you imagine if some dumbass Orlesian physicists brought on another Blight? Not that anyone really thinks that's how the Blight started anymore."

"Thanks for the papers, Dagna. I'll have to buy you a coffee sometime."

"I'd love that. Well, cocoa. I'd love a cocoa. And keep me updated on all of this!"

Lara nodded, her mind already completely elsewhere. The technology existed to disrupt the Veil. The problem was doing it in a controlled way, and then not getting eaten by demons. The real issue was that nobody _wanted_ to disrupt the Veil. It had always struck Lara as strange. People invented deep sea divers and rockets to go to space, but the Fade was seen as a pointless and unfortunate part of the world.

She didn't have time to interrogate Dorian now. She had to go teach a class. She walked across campus wishing the god of coffee would magically intervene in her life. She supposed Sylaise would be that goddess. Coffee beans were herbs in spirit, hot, and pure, and life-giving. Alas, she came upon no coffee carts on her walk to class, and she would have to teach without.  
~~~~~  
Solas spent most of class trying not to laugh. This version of her had seemed pretty mild, even meek, until today. The first version of her he had ever met could take down a bear with bare hands and had done it on a dare. This one looked like she might collapse from the weight of her books and then apologize to the books for the inconvenience. He could see the change in her as soon as the student began presenting the paper he had chosen. She was patient, filling in relevant background information where the student's explanation lacked detail, ensuring her students thoroughly understood the content of the paper.

And then she told them to pounce.

The paper was, of course, nonsense. The scientist was a strict Andrastian who had tried to reconcile fact with the fiction of the Chant. When scientists could no longer ignore the origin of the Veil, a new theory was proposed-- that Andraste herself raised the Veil to protect the world from the evils of magic. Scientific evidence was then contorted to fit this theory, and it briefly was taught in schools until sense won out. Beyond the terrible science, historical evidence and the Chant itself contradicted the theory. Still, there were always some that preferred stories to the truth.

Lara seemed to take great pleasure in ripping the theory to shreds. A smile glowed on her face with each flaw her students pointed out. She left no paragraph unscrutinized, no equation unexamined. The was thorough and merciless. She ended the lesson with a final reminder.

"No matter what your professors tell you, science has never been an objective field. The questions we ask and how we attempt to answer them are inextricably based in our culture. Anyone who tells you they are capable of objective thought cannot see past his own nose. Dismissed."

Solas lingered until the other students had left. "I had intended to give you something, but after class today I must admit I'm a little nervous."

"Is it a coffee?" she asked, "Sylaise'enaste, tell me you have a coffee behind your back."

"No such luck." He extended a copy of one of his books to her. She took it and smiled when she saw his name on the cover.

"What made you nervous?" she asked, flipping through the pages. 

"After today? That you would send a horde of undergrads to my office to tell me exactly which parts I got wrong."

"As if I would know," she laughed. "Did you sign it?" 

"I didn't want to presume. I did make a note of a chapter I think you would find particularly interesting."

Lara had fished a pen out of her bag. She handed it to him. For some reason, Solas felt profoundly stupid signing his name inside the cover. He handed the book and pen back to her, and her fingers brushed his as she took them. He didn't pull away, and they both stared at their hands for a moment before Lara brightly said, "Ma serranas, hahren!"

It was as if she had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He nodded, and swiftly exited the classroom. He marched to his office, laid his head on his desk, and sighed. He was far too old for his heart to flutter at the touch of a hand. 

He hated it when she called him "hahren." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lab safety tip-- don't stick your whole head in the fume hood. It defeats the purpose. 
> 
> Lab safety reality-- sometimes you just really gotta get in there.


	9. Chapter 9

Lara burst through the lab door. Dorian was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk as he read a paper. He twirled a highlighter in his hand.

"Dorian, are you planning on tearing down the Veil and entering the Fade to claim the Holy City for yourself?"

Dorian blinked at her and tilted his head. "That is one of the most prejudiced things I have ever heard. And here I thought we were starting to become fast friends."

Lara crossed her arms. "So there's no secret lab trying to punch through the Veil?"

"Oh, that? Shit." Dorian dropped his feet to the floor. "Cassandra is going to kill me."

Her brows knit together. "Was it really supposed to be a secret from me?"

Dorian waved her concern away. "No, quite the opposite. She told me to take you down there on your first day. I simply forgot."

"Well can I see it now?"

Dorian threw his hands up in defeat and led her down the hall. They took the elevator to the basement. The walls were stark white cinderblock and the fluorescent lights buzzed like a wasps' nest. At the end of the hall, Dorian keyed a code into a pad, and another elevator door opened. It only went to one other floor.

"Are we in the Deep Roads?" Lara asked when the doors opened. They were in an enormous cavern, lava climbing the walls and giving the room a warm glow.

"Unfortunately."

She looked around for exits. "What about darkspawn?"

"The university hired some muscle to clear them out, and then installed very thick doors. We are theoretically safe. Until they decide to turn that thing on, anyway." He gestured at a box big enough to comfortably hold half a dozen people. Thick cables extended from it to a series of desks loaded with computers. Racks of hardware stood between the desks, and still more unopened boxes littered the ground. Lara ran her hand across one of them. This room must contain half a million royals worth of new equipment if not more.

"Who is funding all of this?"

Dorian smiled bitterly. "I knew you'd get to the crux of the matter. Officially, a private donor who wishes for us to investigate non-magical methods for maintaining and repairing the Veil."

Lara rolled her eyes. Humans were always throwing money at non-magical methods to do _everything_. She never looked a perfectly good magical solution in the mouth. "And the unofficial answer?"

"Nobody knows. The department was essentially ordered to determine what this would require. With unlimited funds, I'm certain we got creative."

Lara nodded slowly. All that was really needed were a couple of subsonic amplifiers and a way of directing those waves to a single point. The box was probably soundproofed in order to limit the tear. Most of the hardware here appeared to be sensors, some of which seemed so tangential to the project she could determine exactly which professor had requisitioned it and what project they actually wanted it for. "Who is lead investigator?"

Dorian laughed. "Nobody will volunteer. My guess is they'll recruit some poor post doc last minute and see whether he gets eaten by demons from a safe distance. In any event, everyone suddenly found themselves too busy to continue setting up the equipment, in hopes that we can delay this ridiculous plan."

Lara opened the door to the box. "This is not sturdy enough to keep demons inside."

"It's not meant to. If demons get through, the plan is to cave this place in, I think."

Lara raised an eyebrow. "That can't have been approved by employee health and safety. That's insane."

"So is trying to tear open the Veil, but nobody listens to me."

Lara's eyes drifted around the cavern. "Who could possibly stand to benefit from this?" Her eyes fell on a pile of strange sticks. She walked over and pulled one out. "Mage staffs? Why?"

"That was Cassandra's idea. She guessed that half of the department were secretly mages, so we might as well be able to arm ourselves when the inevitable occurs. Asignon went ballistic."

Lara spun the staff around in her hand. "I suppose it's better than leaving a pile of guns here." She dropped it on the pile and turned on Dorian accusingly. "Someone with some level of authority must think this is a terrible idea."

Dorian shook his head. "As far as I can tell, no university has ever turned down free money."

Lara sat heavily at one of the desk chairs. Part of her was tempted. A stable tear meant she could see if some of her theories were correct. The rules of reality would shift in an area with no Veil. The technology of her ancestors, technology that most doubted ever really existed, could be reinvented. It would be like exploring an alien planet.

And it was the second worst idea floating around in her head.

They headed back up to their lab, to civilization and windows and ethics. Lara took a deep breath.

"Dorian, are there rules about... social relations... between professors and grad students?"

Dorian whipped his head around to look at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. She determinedly didn't make eye contact. "Since this is Orlais, no. There are some... guidelines, but they boil down to don't do it, and since this _is_ Orlais, when you inevitably _do_ do it, for Maker's sake be discreet."

Lara nodded, trying to ignore Dorian's unfortunate phrasing. "Right. It's a terrible idea. That's what I thought."

She sat at her desk and stared at her computer monitor. Yesterday's equations waited for her impatiently. She gingerly typed out a couple symbols. She deleted them. She typed three more. She deleted one. She sighed. 

  
"What department is he in?"

She jumped in her seat. "Art history."

"Hang on, are you talking about Solas?" Dorian laughed. "Well there's no accounting for taste." Lara pressed her face closer to her keyboard to hide her embarrassment. "The good news is that he isn't a professor."

She straightened and turned in her chair. "What?"

"He doesn't have a PhD. He's a lowly instructor. Must have done something amazing to get the university to hire him on. But there are no guidelines for graduate students and instructors."

"But it's still a terrible idea, isn't it?"

Dorian stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, he'll never be in a position to write you a letter of recommendation or affect whether you get hired for anything. If he turns out to be a vindictive asshole, the worst he could do is try to persuade Vivienne to hate you and hope that she ruined your reputation."

Lara blinked. She hadn't even decided on pursuing this relationship and Dorian was predicting how it would go up in flames? "Who is Vivienne?"

"Chair of the art and art history department, and more importantly, Leliana's wife."

Lara rubbed her forehead. Leliana had recruited her aggressively. Would a disgruntled man change her opinion of her? Would Solas even be the type to do something like that? Nobody started a relationship thinking the other person would destroy their reputation, but it happened, didn't it? At least he wasn't human. It wouldn't take much for her to be written off as an exotic elf sleeping her way through the faculty, and if one human claimed she had slept with him... 

It was hard enough for people to take her seriously. 

"I didn't come to Orlais to find a boyfriend. I could have stayed in Wycome for that."

Dorian just looked at her. She knotted her fingers together. Dorian raised an eyebrow. She withered. "He gave me a book," she offered. "His book. He wrote it."

Dorian held out his hand, and she opened her bag and walked over to hand it to him. He flipped open the cover. "He signed it."

"I..." Lara let her head drop back and closed her eyes. "I asked him to."

"Oh, Lara. _No_."

"I know," she groaned.

Dorian continued flipping through the book, peering at the pages.

"Are you reading it?" she asked, trying to grab it from him.

Dorian twisted away from her while continuing to look through it. "I'm trying to see if he wrote his number in here somewhere as well."

Lara stopped herself from asking if he had. She grabbed the book back and clutched it closed with both hands.

"Well, your romantic troubles aside, I think I have some news that will cheer you up: Friday is payday."

Lara could have kissed him. She wanted to kiss him. "Dorian, I'm going to kiss you."

He held his hands up to fend her off. "Save it for Solas. I will allow you to buy me a drink when the money comes in, however."

"Deal." She walked back to her desk. 

"Two drinks."

"Done." 

"Fancy ones with umbrellas." 

"Only if you never mention this conversation ever again." 

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I forget Roderick's name and make one up? Yes. Fixed now -_-


	10. Chapter 10

The wolf was in her dream again. The landscape was green, so irritatingly green, and the enormous white wolf was just sitting there. These Fade dreams were so much more boring than her sister had described to her years ago.

Lara concentrated on manifesting a pick in her hand. She slammed it into the hard, rocky ground, and chipped away a hunk of Fade. The wolf came closer. 

"Can you even see green?" she asked, holding up the rock for him. "Do you fetch?" She tossed it, and the wolf didn't even bother to track it with his eyes. He simply blinked at her and sat on his haunches. 

She cut herself another piece of Fade. She held it up to the sky and realized there was no sun to hold it up against. Instead she envisioned a very powerful torch, and it appeared in her hand. She shone it through the rock. It was ever so slightly translucent. Another hint. 

"Unless you start helping, you won't be a coauthor on my paper," she warned the wolf without looking up. "You won't even make the acknowledgement section." 

She urged the beam brighter, and she could detect small inconsistencies in the rock. It wasn't a uniform green. She remembered learning about a shrimp that could see colors even better than elves. Something about more photoreceptor types. What could wolves see? 

"What color _do_ you see?" she asked the wolf, but he was no longer watching her. She followed his gaze to another woman, walking determinedly through the Fade. She looked remarkably like her sister. 

"Ella?" she asked, dropping her tools. The woman didn't turn her head. Lara chased after her, and the wolf followed them both. "Ella, are you sleeping? Can you hear me?" 

The woman stopped and looked around, and Lara realized it was not her sister. Her hair was all wrong, her vallaslin was different, and her clothes... she was wearing traditional Dalish hunting gear, not mage robes. "Can you hear me?" she asked the uncanny stranger. 

The woman faced the wolf. "For the last time, I am not her." 

Lara tried to approach her again, but the woman whipped her bow off her shoulder and knocked an arrow back, aiming it at the wolf. "Dirthara-ma," she hissed.

Lara lunged forward and grabbed the woman's arm. As soon as she touched her, the scene around her changed completely. Endless rocky Fade gave way to a lush, green valley. She could hear birds and the rush of a creek. The taut bow in her hand begged for her attention. She stared at the hooded figure in front of her and felt such a deep rage as she loosed the arrow...

Lara woke up. Her heart was racing. She turned on her bedside lamp and stared at the cool blue of her walls. She grabbed her phone. It was two in the morning. She texted her sister. 

_You_  
_2:06am_  
_I just had a real Fade dream. Wolf and everything. I think I tried to kill him._

_Ella_  
_2:07am_  
_Did he offer you anything? What did he say?_

Of course her sister was awake at this hour. She could just imagine her back in Wycome, out at a bar, drinking for free while writing a term paper that would undoubtedly win awards and change the way the Marches conceptualized tax law or whatever.

_You_  
_2:07am_  
_No, he didn't say anything. But you were there. Or some twisted angry version of you._

_Ella_  
_2:07am_  
_What makes you think it was me? I've been awake all night. Pick up a mirror._

Lara considered this. In the end, it had been her who shot the arrow. Lara had never even held a bow. She dropped her phone on the table and picked up her notebook to scribble down her observations of the Fade. As she put it down, her eyes wandered to the book next to it. Solas's book. She recognized the picture on the cover-- one of the more famous examples of ancient Elvhen art. She flipped through the pages until she found the one he had marked.

_I thought this chapter would be of considerable interest to you. -S_

The chapter was about tools used to produce various art forms. According to Solas, none had ever been found at any archaeological dig site. This had led to all sorts of speculation, and he thoroughly debunked the most common claims before putting forth his own. Ancient artists used tools that could not exist in a world with a Veil. There were sketches of proposed tools and models of how they could have been used. The second half of the chapter was devoted entirely to pigments that no longer existed. 

Solas was right. Lara was interested. She read the entire chapter and then the entire book. She brought it out into her tiny living room, and began taking notes on her whiteboard. She finished it as the sun came up. She blinked blearily out her window, realizing she had just damned herself to a miserable day, but another thought bubbled up in her mind. 

It was payday.  
~~~~~~  
Lara's leg would not stop bouncing. She was so jittery she almost spilled her coffee as she brought it up to her mouth. Even so, she still yawned about fifteen times during the department seminar, earning her an angry glare from Pentaghast. She was letting down the team. It's not like they actually cared about non-linear dynamics in nanomagnetic systems anyway. 

She also kept checking her phone under her desk to see if her bank balance had shifted. She refused to put her phone on silent just in case she got an email telling her that she could afford to eat lunch again. It had dinged sporadically through her morning class, and she could see her students raising their eyebrows after each time she checked it. She didn't care. Undergrads were under the misunderstanding that if enough of them sat together in a room, their bad behaviors were not obvious to the lecturer. She had seen each of them check their phones while she was teaching them. 

The post doc next to her reached out and laid a hand on her shaking desk. She shot him a chagrined look, but the leg continued bouncing. He sighed and passed her a napkin. Her coffee cup had left a ring on the desk. As she wiped it up, an email came in. Her leg jerked up, whacking the desk and sending her coffee flying into the air. All eyes in the room were on her now, and the hot, brown liquid was seeping into her jeans and her shoes. 

Her bank account was full.

Lara took a deep breath for the first time in a month. 

Napkins were passed in a chain from one end of the seminar room to the other, and the post doc began helping her mop up all of the coffee. As Lara tried to sop up the worst of it from the carpet, she noticed brown stains all over. She was not the first. 

The speaker continued on, almost entirely unperturbed. Lara sat back in her seat and stared at her phone. The numbers were real. The money was there. It was enough to get her through the month. It was enough to repay some of the kindnesses done for her. It was enough. 

Dorian shook her awake at the end of the lecture. He thrust something into her hand, saying "you dropped this."  
She blinked slowly and looked down. Her phone. She suddenly knew exactly what she was going to do with her new wealth. She was going to throw a party. 

"Dorian, call your boyfriend, Amadeus, and tell him to come to Ladybird tonight. I'm going to buy everyone drinks."

"That's not even close to his name, but buy us alcohol and you can call him whatever you want."

"And, um, text your friend who lent me that old laptop. Lucy?"

"Lace."

Lara texted Dagna, Hawke, and Fenris. She hesitated over inviting Varric, because he might decide to start making her pay rent, but it was his bar and he'd probably find out anyway. She might as well stay on friendly terms. She considered inviting Cassandra, wondering how uncomfortable it would be to have her boss around. She decided against it, but her hand hovered over her email. It was a bad idea. She sent the email to Solas anyway. It was after 5 on a Friday-- it was possible he wouldn't even read it.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
Lara stood in front of the table of friendly faces and held up her glass. It was her second of the night, and already her cheeks felt warm against the autumn breeze. "I just want to say that moving to Val Royeaux was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I would not have survived without all of you. Thank you." 

She lifted her glass, and everyone brought theirs together with cheers of "Fuck Orlais!" and "Welcome!" She sat back down after clinking her glass with everyone present. The Iron Bull nudged her gently, and she almost toppled over. "You know, I don't think anyone here got to Val Royeaux unscathed. We all have our own sob stories."

"You don't seem the sobbing kind," she said to him. Dorian snorted.

"Yeah, well, I got here right after being made Tal-Vashoth, which sucked." He tossed his head back and swallowed his drink in one swig. 

"Disinherited from my family," Dorian said between sips. 

"Exiled from Orzammar." Dagna shrugged. 

"I'm from Kirkwall, which tells you enough," Varric sighed. At the mention of the city, everyone at the table took a drink.

"I moved here after meeting my husband," Lace said quietly. "He works at the university. He's coming by later. Nobody, um, exiled me or anything. If you ever go to Ferelden, I'm sure my parents would love to have you stay with them." Everyone stared at her. "I'll, uh, I'll buy the next round of drinks." 

"Where is Hawke?" Lara asked Varric as Lace practically ran inside. "She didn't respond to my text."

"She posted a picture from Antiva today. Didn't you see it?" Dorian asked. 

Lara shook her head. On occasion, when she felt like punishing herself, she would get on social media and see what was happening in Wycome or back with the clan. It left her feeling homesick, inadequate, and slightly tearful, so she had deleted all the apps off of her phone. It's not like her family was excited for her to move to Orlais. Posting pictures of rainy streets or steaming pastries wouldn't impress them very much. They were even less impressed by physics.

"You must have seen it, you're always so quick to like all of my photos. Ah, there it is, and yes, you already gave it a little heart." he said, holding up up his phone. It was a picture of Fenris silhouetted by a sunset. Lara stared at Dorian blankly. "Well if it's not you, who else could be 'FreeMarches_so_Dalishious?'"

Bull coughed and patted him on the back. "Uh, that username is definitely not her, Kadan." 

"She follows me, too," Dagna said, holding out her phone. Varric affirmed that he was also familiar with the fake Lara. Lara didn't need to look at it to know who it was. 

"My fucking sister." 

"She looks just like you!" Dagna said, showing her one of the selfies. She had used about eight filters to give herself antlers and make her vallaslin incredibly stark against her dark skin. 

Lara whipped her own phone out. "May Fen'Harel eat her blighted face off, she won't when I'm done with her." 

"Ah, sorry for my lateness." Lara turned around to see Solas standing next to a human she'd never met. The human was wearing a ridiculous hat that should have taken all of her attention, but Lara's eyes were drawn to Solas, who was once again wearing one of the tightest sweaters she'd ever seen. "I ran into Professor Kenric on the way in," he said, gesturing to the human.

"Just Bram," he corrected him. "Archaelogy and Lace's husband," he said proudly in a thick Starkhaven accent. Lace returned carrying pitchers of sangria, and soon a glass was thrust into Lara's hand. She forgot about texting her sister. 

"I read your entire book," she said, standing up awkwardly. Solas was still standing just behind her chair, though he also now held a glass of fermented fruit juice. "I took notes. I have questions." 

Solas smiled. "I would be delighted to answer them." 

Dorian grabbed her by the elbow. "Can it wait? Sorry, but I have to borrow her." He smiled brightly at Solas as he dragged Lara away. "Have you met Isabela? She's been all over the Marches. I bet you have friends in common." 

"A Dalish! Tell me, are you from the same clan as my dear, sweet Merrill?" The woman in front of her was tall, dark, gorgeous, and proceeded to tell her the most outrageous and disgusting story Lara had ever heard involving five elves, a sacred mountain, and a hapless goat. She listened spellbound, certain she was witnessing one of the most skilled performance artists of all time work her craft. 

When the story ended, Lara blinked at her. She twirled the straw in her now empty glass. Someone helpfully filled it up. "No, that's... that's not the same clan as mine."

Isabela sighed dramatically. "Pity. Though I'm certain we could make some fun memories ourselves. Add a new tale for your clan to pass through the generations."

Lara believed her, and was going to tell her so, when a man threw his arm around Isabela's shoulders, knocking her forward and causing her to spill her drink down Lara's front. Lara gasped at the ice bit her skin.

"Krem, you big brute. Look at how I've drenched this poor, sweet thing." 

Krem looked suitably embarrassed, withdrawing his arm. "I'm so sorry, miss. Here, you can have my hoodie, or, um--" 

"Don't worry," Lara cut him off, trying not to shiver. "It's not a big deal." She excused herself and pushed her way into the bar and through to the back. In her room she could still hear the muffled thrumming of music downstairs, and it felt surreal to be standing in her little apartment. She wondered if this was how demons felt, listening to the party on the other side of the Veil. She realized she was a little drunk. She peeled her soaked shirt off and searched for another. 

Once dressed, she headed downstairs, back into the throng. The patio was now packed with people, but the bar was empty enough that she immediately spotted Solas standing by himself.

"What are you doing in here? Party's outside."

He turned to her, and her eyes drifted down to the little v-neck of his sweater. "Failing to get the bartender's attention." 

She leaned her back against the bar. She had wanted to ask him about his book, about whether he drew all the schematics in it and how he came up with the designs, but all she could think about was how soft his stupid sweater looked. She crossed her arms over her chest to stop herself from reaching out to touch him. 

"I didn't think you were going to come." He leaned in closer to hear her over the noise of the bar, and she repeated herself into his ear. "I wasn't sure you would be here tonight."

He kept his face close. "I find celebrating your move to this city an appropriate use of my Friday evening."

She looked away from him to keep from blushing. "Is that your convoluted way of saying you like me?"

"No," he said. His hand delicately touched her jaw, and he tilted her head toward him. "This is." 

Her heart stopped as he slowly pressed his lips to hers. She was too surprised to even close her eyes. The kiss was gentle, almost chaste, and as he pulled away she realized it was not nearly enough. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back to her. His tongue was in her mouth and his hands slid over her back to grip her waist. There was a nagging thought in the back of her head, that maybe this wasn't the time, or the place, but every other part of her demanded more. She pressed her body into his, and he held her all the tighter. His lips felt right, and good, and necessary to her survival. But when he removed his mouth from hers to get some air, the nagging got louder, more insistent. She kissed him again to shut it up, but it didn't work. 

The nagging voice in her head found its way to her throat. 

"We shouldn't," she gasped, pulling away from him. "It isn't right." 

Solas dropped his hands to his side instantly. "Of course," he said, though his brow furrowed in confusion. 

"You're my student, and possibly my mentor, and we shouldn't..." She couldn't look at him. She needed to look anywhere else but him. She brought a hand to her burning cheek. 

"I'm not certain I'm either of those things, actually." He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away farther away. 

"I should... I should leave," she said. 

"This is-- you live here."

"Right. You should leave." 

"Ellana--"

Lara stared at him then, confusion melting into an icy anger. "My name is Lara." 

Solas nodded, looking around the room as if he had never seen it before. "I should leave." 

Lara watched him push through the crowd. She sat at the bar, put her head in her hands, and sighed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I think this is the longest chapter I've written. I might have tried to fit too much into it. 
> 
> Anyway, mantis shrimps probably don't actually see more colors than we do. There have been some interesting studies regarding that. 
> 
> Wolves can't see green >.<
> 
> Dirthara-ma: may you learn. Like in a mean way. 
> 
> I decided to make a tumblr dedicated only to my DA obsessions, so I went ahead and snagged Ella'a handle-- https://freemarches-so-dalishious.tumblr.com/


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dreamed most of this chapter up, I think.

Lara groaned as she flopped herself off of her couch. Her eyelids felt like paper, and everything got worse from there. She dragged herself to her bathroom and tried to remember why she slept on the sofa. At least her shoes were off. That was a good sign. She splashed water on her face to cool down the burning, and considered just lying down on the tile floor. A sound from her bedroom drew her out.

"Can you groan more quietly, please?" Dorian whined at her from her bed. He looked to be alone. A small blessing. 

"Tell me there's a magical cure for hangovers," she begged, getting in bed next to him. He huffed, but made room for her. "Tell me I am not going to feel like this all day." Dorian dropped a hand on her forehead and a weak pulse of light hit her face. Her nausea was instantly relieved as was the terrible heat pulsing in her veins. She still felt sluggish and achey but this was manageable. Dorian turned his magic on himself with a pleased sigh. 

"Tell me... tell me what happened last night." Her voice was hoarse, as if she had spent the entire night screaming. Quick flashes of memory struck her, and her stomach flipped in embarrassment. "A highly edited version, if possible." 

"You mean, you don't want me to describe in detail just how long you made out with Isabela for?" 

"I... I remember that part." It had been her first time kissing someone with lip and tongue rings. It had made her very curious about... other things. 

"And Krem?" 

"That sounds... familiar." He was her first time kissing a human man. It was not unpleasant. 

"And the both of them simultaneously?" 

"Three way kissing is never as fun as you think it's going to be." 

"True, but that didn't stop you from doing it again with--"

"No." Lara threw her pillow over her face. 

"Lace and Bram." 

" _No_ ," she groaned through the pillow, even as she remembered just how good Lace was at kissing. Dread Wolf be damned she could understand Bram's pride at having married her. She was pretty sure she told him so. Repeatedly.

"And after each kiss--"

"Don't say it. Don't make me remember this." 

"You demanded--"

"This doesn't sound like me at all," she moaned. 

"'Say my motherfucking name.'" 

If Lara pushed the pillow to her face any harder, she would meld with it. This could solve her problem of having to go out in public ever again. Val Royeaux was done. It was over. One month here, and she had to leave. Forever. 

"And then you led the entire bar in singing. You have a pretty voice, you know." 

She remembered the singing. Everyone loved classic Destiny's Child. She was pretty certain she did not kiss anyone after that. Lara slowly moved the pillow off her face. "There was no one else, right? No one that you saw me kissing?"

Hungover and sleep deprived, Dorian was still quick on the uptake. "Why, was there someone I _didn't_ see you kissing?" 

She thumped the pillow into his chest and got out of bed. She needed coffee. 

"Why did you stay here?" she called to him. 

"Bull went home with Dagna. He always has a thing for redheads. I thought someone ought to make sure you survived your shame." 

She pulled two mugs out of her cabinet. There was no food in her fridge. She hadn't had a chance to go shopping last night. It was possible she'd spent her entire paycheck on booze. 

Dorian breezed out of her bedroom and took his mug of coffee. "Bull's coming to pick me up in a few minutes for the farmer's market, but you seem to be surviving better than I thought." He tapped her once again on the head as he sipped his coffee. "Drink some water. I'm not sure how long that spell will last." 

Lara climbed back into bed with her phone once Dorian left. Her phonebook appeared to have doubled in size, and she had a dozen texts from new contacts she barely remembered. Some time after noon, she dragged herself downstairs to the bar to close her tab. She was absolutely horrified to see Lace standing there. They made eye contact. Lara considered running. 

"I guess you're also here to pay your tab?" Lace said in an overly friendly voice. 

"About last night--" Lara mumbled.

"I am so sorry," Lace interrupted. "I had never done something like that before, and you know Bram and I don't really have that kind of marriage... not that it was bad! It was great. Really great. But it's just not--"

"I completely understand," Lara said. "We never have to talk or think about it ever again." 

"Yeah," Lace said, "I definitely won't talk about it again." 

Lace signed her bill and ran out the door. Lara looked at the bartender and sighed. "Thom. How bad is it?" 

"You're already paid up." He started preparing a drink. 

"I paid last night? Oh, creators, how much was it? Did I tip you?"

Thom shook his head, chuckling, and handed her a bloody Andraste. "Tethras paid for you. Said he hadn't laughed so much since Hawke left. Threatened to rename the bar after you if she didn't come home soon." He nodded at her drink. "Drink that. You'll feel better. Hair of the dog that bit you." 

"The bar is named after Hawke?" she asked. _Ladybird_. It hit her. She covered her face in her palm. "I'm so stupid." 

"Yeah, but if you drink that, you won't care as much." 

She munched on the celery and it occurred to her she was sitting in the exact spot she'd been when Solas had kissed her last night. She drank the whole thing and left a large tip.  
~~~~~~  
Solas had had a very different evening. He left the bar without speaking to anyone. He walked the few blocks to his flat slowly, trying to control all the thoughts crying out for attention in his mind. The first was simple and yet not terribly important-- he fucked up in a marvelous way. And a new way, at that, which was difficult at his age. Of all the names she'd had, it was surprising he'd pull out her first. But then, that was at the heart of the second issue at hand. The Inquisition was unknowingly amassing in Val Royeaux. Amassing around her. 

Ellana had inadvertently made herself the focal point of a religious and political movement. It had made sense that people flocked to her. Solas had personally manipulated circumstances to make it more likely. But Lara didn't have anything special about her that he had seen. She was not magical, or marked, or politically relevant. After what happened to Ellana, Solas would use his power to keep her that way. 

Not that he had the power he'd had back then. 

Once in his flat, he opened a cabinet displaying favored archaeological artifacts and placed a hand on the Veil network coupler. He could feel the network, spread out across Thedas. He took his time probing it, looking for lost connections, feeling the Veil in different parts of the world. The network was unchanged. The Veil was strong.

Every single face at that tavern had been a familiar one. They didn't all know each other yet, but they would. He just didn't know why yet. He closed the cabinet and stripped for a shower. The warm water gently sprayed his face, and he touched his lips thoughtfully. He hadn't kissed her in over a hundred years. Their last kiss had been goodbye. This one... He hung his head as he considered how she would remember it. He laughed. 

Once in bed, he finally checked his phone. It was too much to hope that she had texted, but he had received a number of messages from Varric.

_Varric_   
_10:32pm_   
_Where'd you go? Strike out already?_

_Varric_   
_11:13pm_   
_Holy shit, Chuckles. What did you do to her?_

_Varric_   
_12:17am_   
_Video attachment_

Solas opened the video attachment cautiously. Varric was clearly filming, given the height of the camera. He was not the only one. Lara was standing on a table, shouting at a boisterous, drunk crowd. 

_"Is my name FreeMarches so Dalishious?!" she demanded._  
 _"No!"_  
 _"Is my name Ella? Mirella? Or Ellana?" She yelled._  
 _"No!"_  
 _"Is my name Rabbit, or Knife-ears, or Rattus?"_  
 _"No!"_  
 _"What is my name?"_  
 _"Lara!"_  
 _"Say my motherfucking name!"_  
 _"Lara!" the crowd was cheering and shouting and stamping their feet as she paced across the table, egging them on. The camera panned to the street, and people had begun gathering to see what the fuss was. As the camera panned back to Lara, she and the crowd began to sing a popular song Solas recognized from about twenty years ago. Others got on the table with Lara to dance. The video cut out._

Solas couldn't help laughing. He watched the video again. She was drunk, furious, and still managing to lead the entire Inquisition in trashing him. He loved her.

_Varric_   
_12:18am_   
_Who's Ellana, Chuckles?_

_You_   
_12:35am_   
_Who is Mirella?_

_Varric_   
_12:36am_   
_Twin sister back in Wycome. Got some weird sibling rivalry thing going on. Probably followed you on social media, if you have any._

Solas did not. In fact, he was certain the Internet and social media were going to be the things that revealed him as an ancient once and for all. He had no desire to usher that day sooner. He had started to learn computer skills in hopes he would one day be able to delete evidence of his past, though the more he learned, the more daunted he felt by the challenge. 

This is not what concerned him. She had only had a sister once before, and her death had changed everything. He was going to have to keep an eye on this one. 

As Solas closed his eyes for the night, he reflected he had one thing to be grateful for: he had seen neither hide nor hair of Sera yet. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Solas may not use social media himself, but he was familiar enough to find what he was looking for. And Mirella Lavellan did not seem to care about her digital trail-- she everywhere. In a matter of minutes, Solas knew she was a third year law student in Wycome, fiercely in favor of Elven rights, and a lacrosse player. Twenty minutes later and he knew her favorite coffee order from which cafe and that she was there at this moment.

 _You_  
_3:24pm_  
_Do you know any lawyers who owe you a favor?_

 _Varric_  
_3:25pm_  
_You in some kind of trouble?_

 _You_  
_3:25pm_  
_No. But I do need to find a paid internship in VR for an international law student._

 _Varric_  
_3:26pm_  
_I know just the woman._

~~~~~~~~  
Solas didn't come to class on Tuesday. He was absent Thursday as well. Lara hadn't truly expected him to attend, but she had prepared an icy stare to give him. She had also thought of what she might say to him, though she hadn't gotten further than "get fucked." Her anger had thawed into simple wounded pride, however, and avoidance seemed better. After multiple videos of her performance on Friday had been posted online, avoiding _everyone_ seemed the better choice.

Lara had spent the majority of the week in the lab in the Deep Roads. She found it strangely peaceful. Nobody knew she was working there, and even if they did, very few people had the passcode. She set up some of the fancy new computers, commandeered four of the enormous monitors, and used the lab like a personal office. When she wasn't teaching or pacifying frazzled undergrads during office hours, she was sitting in the warm glow of lava, contemplating the Fade.

She was not contemplating creating a stable breach for the purposes of nefarious research. If she wrote down a few notes about it every hour or so, it was purely out of academic curiousity. She had no desire to tie herself to such a dangerous project. But if they were going to open a rift, she told herself, it was only natural to have some thoughts on the best way to do it...

"You know, the problem with rifts is that they aren't doorways," she said, bursting into the above ground non-secret lab.

"Good afternoon, Dorian, haven't seen you all week, you look busy, would you like a cup of coffee?" Dorian griped to himself.

Lara ignored this. "They only flow one direction-- Fade to here. There's never been a rift that went the other way, that just sucked things out, like a black hole. It's less a doorway and more... a drain on an infinitely full bathtub."

"Everyone knows it's energetically favorable to go from Fade to here. That's how mages are able to do magic. And I think the metaphor you are looking for is a hole in a dam."

"Dorian, like eight people in Thedas know that. But that's not the point. The point is..." Lara had lost her point. The point was making the rift was easy, but crossing it took ridiculous amounts of energy. That hadn't been the point of the secret lab though, had it? Why had someone wanted a rift?

Dorian waited for her to finish her thought. When she didn't, he rounded on her accusingly. "Vishante kaffas, you're thinking about that secret lab."

"I'm thinking about my next paper," she said, trying not to look guilty. " _Our_ next paper?"

Dorian shook his head. "There isn't enough money in the world to tempt me to participate in that career-killer of a project."

Lara pulled her external out her bag and walked over to her desk. As long as she was here, she might as well grab her data. The wifi in the Deep Roads was terrible.

There was an envelope taped to her computer. She ripped it open.

 _Dear Lara,_  
_A number of apologies are owed to you. First, it had not occurred to me that you might consider me as one of your other students. I did not realize what an awkward position I had put you in, and I apologize for it. It was ill-considered on my part._  
_The more grievous injury to you, which I do not feel needs to be repeated here, was as surprising to me as I think it was to you. Ellana was a very important friend to me who died years ago. She has been on my mind of late. This is not an excuse, but context for the mistake. I truly am sorry for it._  
_To save from future awkwardness, I will stop attending your class._  
_I wish you well,_  
_Solas_

She couldn't explain the sinking feeling in her stomach. This was a good letter. He apologized, as he should, and now she would never have to see him again. The apology was thoughtful, the solution was considerate, and she should be happy. It was strange that her face felt like it was frowning.

Dorian was watching her. "Did someone leave you something nasty again? Maker's Breath, I knew I should have thrown it away."

"No!" she said, "No, it's a good note."

"Are you sure? You look like--"

"This is what I look like when I'm holding a good note," she snapped, crumpling it in her fist.

"Fine! Fine." 

"Do you still want a coffee?" she asked, her feet already propelling her toward the door. She needed air.

"There's a coffee-maker just down the hall!" he called after her, but she was already on her way out.  
~~~~  
Lara had to admit the campus of the University of Orlais was more beautiful than her old stomping grounds in Wycome. For the tuition these students paid, she supposed it was demanded. Students even seemed to dress better here, she reflected as she wandered through the gardens. Not a single one of them was wearing pajama pants or a hoodie.  
The gardens were sectioned into regions of Thedas. The physics building was closest to Tevinter. She preferred the Free Marches, although the manicured floral arrangements did not remind her of home at all. Today it seemed to be full of students, some she recognized as her own, so she hurried on.

Her least favorite section was the Dales. Hundreds of crystal grace bushes crowded the area. The hum of bees always made her a little uneasy. Today, to add to her discomfort, Solas was sitting in the middle of it.

He was sketching, seated on a stone bench, a thick book on his lap, eyes narrowed and hands blackened with charcoal. He was in her path, unavoidable. She could walk past him, ignoring him, or turn on her heel and go back. She hesitated, indecision holding her in place.

"Renoir's brother used to stop pedestrians in the street," he said without looking up, "He would ask them the time or for directions, stalling them so Renoir could sketch their faces to use later in paintings."

Lara wasn't sure how he could have seen her. He seemed completely focused on the paper in front of him.

"Are you asking me to do the same for you? Waylay students in the pursuit of art?"

"No." He looked up from the page with a smirk. "I am asking you to hold still."

Her traitorous heart began to thump in her chest. She rolled her eyes. "Aren't models usually paid for their services?"

"Only if you can't distract them for long enough."

She walked over to look down at his progress. There was little more than an outline of a face. It could have been anyone. "The painting in your office-- did you paint it?"

"Ah, no. It's an older work. Unfortunately the artist never garnered much acclaim. She was a contemporary of Renoir, friends with some of the other impressionists, but she suffered a familiar setback. She was an elf. Her name was Sylvas. It is her obscurity that allows me to afford one of her paintings."

Lara sat down on the far side of the bench. "That's a Dalish name."

Solas smiled. "She was a Dalish woman."

"Would I be able to see some of her other work?"

His smile broadened. "Two of her pieces hang in the Art Institute of Val Royeaux. Unfortunately, they are attributed to better known artists of the time. A careful eye would notice the Elvhen influences in her color choice."

Lara recoiled. "Why don't you tell them they are mistaken? Give her credit for her work?"

His hands had kept working all while he talked. Seated on the bench, Lara could no longer see his progress and was starting to feel uncomfortable. "The truth would diminish the work in worth. They would no longer hang so prominently in the museum, and I would be sorry for it. Selfish, I suppose. I like to think she would find it funny."

"I would be fucking furious," Lara muttered.

Solas suppressed a laugh. "Yes, your feelings on the subject have been made plain."

Lara's stomach sank. The events of the weekend burst into her mind, and she suddenly knew he'd seen the video of her. She stood up to leave, cursing herself and her foolishness. But if this was going to be her last conversation with the man, there was something she wanted to know, awkwardness be damned. She took a deep breath. "Did you kiss me because I reminded you of your dead girlfriend?"

Solas winced almost imperceptibly. "No." He met her eyes, his expression earnest, almost pained. "I kissed you because I had wanted to for weeks."

She swallowed hard. Lara felt that if she asked, he would kiss her right then. He would keep kissing her until she asked him to stop. Her wounded pride demanded that she change the subject. She looked away from him. "I hate crystal grace," she blurted out. "They always make me think of funerals."

She heard the scratching of his charcoal on the paper again. "Is there a flower you prefer?"

 _End this conversation_ , she told herself. _Get out of here_. "I like those brightly colored daisies," she said faintly, "the really big ones."

She heard the tearing of the page, and turned back to Solas. He blew across the drawing and held it out to her. She took it. Her face was in profile, heavily stylized. She was holding her hand in front of her face, and in her hand was an atom-- a nucleus with electrons spinning around it. She looked happy.

Lara did not want to avoid this man for the rest of her life. She didn't want to avoid him at all.

"You should come back to class," she said without looking at him. "If you want. It can be like before."

"I do not think it will be, Lara. But if it does not make you uncomfortable, I would like to attend." 

She gave the drawing back to him. "See you in class, then." 

"Dareth shiral" was his quiet response as she walked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That part about Renoir is true, and I find it kind of adorable.


	13. Chapter 13

Lara sat on the bleak, rocky ground and sighed. "This is boring," she called to the wolf. "Nobody ever told me the Fade was so boring." 

For a week, the green expanse had stretched in front of her. The wolf sometimes walked, sometimes sat. Once it was sleeping, paws in the air. It always kept its distance. 

"Aren't there supposed to be... memories?" She tried to come up with one of her own, a pleasant memory of home in the summer, bees droning over blood lotus by the creek. The Fade remained stubbornly barren. The wolf, predictably, did not respond. 

"If I can't dream properly, does this mean I lack imagination?" She could summon objects to her hand. She had spent one evening summoning every manner of dog toy she could think of and tossing it at the wolf. He was not impressed. 

"What does it say about me that every night I talk to a wolf who couldn't care less?" She tried to imagine him as a dragon, a halla, a cat. He remained, stubbornly, a wolf. 

"What does it say about you that every night you sit with a woman you don't like?" In a dramatic change of events, the wolf approached her. He sat down in front of her, lowered his face to hers, and huffed. She closed her eyes as the puff of hot air hit her, and Lara reflected that she was antagonizing a predator who was probably over 100kg and also not actually a wolf, but a magical being with unknown powers. 

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else. 

The roar of a waterfall hit her ears first. She was in an unfamiliar forest. All the trees were the wrong height, the birds the wrong colors. She looked for the wolf to thank him for the change of scenery, but he was gone. She walked down to the water and let the spray hit her face. The water was icy. She considered going back for her net and trying to catch some fish for supper. Voices called in the distance, but she knew they weren't for her. She had nowhere in particular to be, so she chose to be here. There was a stone bridge up at the top of the waterfall, and a man was watching her from it. "Lahlas," he called down, "I've returned." 

The rocks next to the fall were covered in moss, but she was certain she could climb them to reach the bridge. The confidence felt new and foreign, but she did not slip on her ascent. At the top she paused to note her aching joints, rubbing her knee. She sighed, "I'm getting too old for this."

The man on the bridge was watching her closely, and she saw that it was Solas. Strange for him to be here, or maybe it wasn't strange. He said he had returned, and now she remembered she had been waiting for him. His clothes were odd, out of place, but then, weren't they always? She was so glad to see him. 

"Was that truly the best path?" He asked her from above.

She batted her eyes at him and then vaulted over the stone wall of the bridge. Her knee complained on the landing, but it was worth it for the way he smiled and shook his head at her. 

"What are you hiding behind your back?" 

Solas slowly brought his empty hands in front of him, the picture of innocence. She lunged behind him anyway. "Never trust a mage," she said in his ear, snatching the hovering secret. She cried out as something pricked her finger, but she held her prize: a pineapple. She smiled even as she sucked the blood from her wound. Solas took her wrist and tapped the tiniest healing spell into her finger. 

She pulled out the knife from her belt and cut into the fruit. The sweetness hit her mouth and she almost laughed aloud. "Where did you get this?" she asked him, cutting out more pieces.

He smirked. "Can you keep a secret?"

A ridiculous question, and he knew it. "Will there be more pineapple if I do?" she asked with her mouth full. 

"Yes."

She swallowed seriously. "Then absolutely." To seal the promise, she pressed her sticky sweet lips to his, a quick kiss he refused to let her pull away from. His arms wrapped around her, deepening the kiss, but smashing the pineapple she still held between them. He flinched as the spikes poked through his sweater, and she burst out laughing. He brought a hand to his forehead, and she laughed harder. 

"You can kiss me after I've eaten this entire thing," she said, stuffing more into her mouth. 

"Don't the Dalish know how to share?" 

"With each other, sure. But not with strange men who steal the hearts of their women." 

"Just one woman," he said, "Just you."  
~~~~~  
A blaring sound yanked Lahlas out of the forest. She blinked a few times in the darkness, trying to get her bearings and find the source of the blighted noise. That wasn't right. She was _Lara_ , and she turned her alarm off. Whoever Lahlas was... she thanked her for the memory. She also thanked her own imagination for having Solas play the role of Lahlas's lover. 

Then she cursed it. 

Then she wrote the dream down in her journal. 

Whatever the wolf was, she was pretty certain he was a friend. 

She pondered the secret of the pineapple as she walked to work. Judging by their clothes, the memory had been old. Assuming air traffic wasn't available, how _had_ he brought a fresh pineapple to her? The forest had definitely been a southern one, possibly even the Dales. 

She really didn't have time to waste thinking about pineapples. Cassandra had asked her for help with some equations for her next publication, and she couldn't say no to her own adviser. The students were about to hit midterms, and the emails were pouring in asking for help and explanations and the test questions in advance, thanks. Office hours were full of nearly tearful med students who were certain Lara was their only impediment to future clinical brilliance. She had doubled the number of discussion sessions she was holding to help the students keep up with their homework. Her own work had fallen by the wayside, and she didn't have time to sit in the Deep Roads thinking about rifts.

This did not stop her from reading a radical new paper and playing with their results... 

"Have you read this?" Lara demanded the moment Dorian walked into the room, waving the sheets in the air. 

Dorian snatched the paper out of her hands. "The one out of Minrathous? About the room temperature superconductor? Completely marvelous if true." 

"It... I think it might _not_ be true." Lara wrung her fingers together. "I plugged some of their figures into on my of algorithms to extract the noise. Just for fun. But... well, look." 

She angled her monitor for Dorian to see. He hissed as his eyes passed between the two graphs. "Those lying degenerates." 

"It could be a coincidence." 

"The same noise on two unrelated measures in one of the most exciting and controversial papers of our time? I'm going to write a scathing rebuttal." 

"Is that wise? Couldn't it... couldn't we suffer blow back?"

Dorian was pacing the room. "Charlatans like this give all of us a bad name. How will the public ever trust us if we allow our own to lie and deceive unchecked? One bad apple and they are always ready to cut our funding and set the cart on fire. Send me those figures, and show Cassandra as well. She'll take up the cause." 

Lara steeled herself and tapped out the email. Her work was already on the fringe of what was considered acceptable science, but attacking the work of two established physicists? She could just see her career crumbling down around her. With Cassandra's name on whatever Dorian was writing up, she would probably suffer less for it. Probably. She could already hear his furious typing from across the room. She hit send.

Cassandra burst into the lab not ten minutes later. 

"This is an outrage. Did they really think that we would not scrutinize such an important paper? Did they think there would be no consequences?" 

"It could be a coincidence," Lara repeated. 

"Yes, and I could be Divine," Cassandra spat. 

"You'd look terrible in the hat, I'm afraid," Dorian called from his station.

"We are scientists," Cassandra huffed, "We do not accept coincidences. Do any other tests you can think of on their figures," Cassandra said, "I'm going to find out what I can about these so-called scientists." 

Lara sighed and said goodbye to her weekend.   
~~~~  
Solas was having a good day. Dreaming of Lahlas would always put him in a good mood. She was who Ellana would have been if she hadn't been cursed, who Rajasha could have been if he hadn't made so many mistakes, if she hadn't been born into a world at war with itself. 

Lahlas had managed to live some 90 years, spent around 60 of them with Solas, and most of those were happy. With no more wars to fight, there was nothing to do but explore their world together. With her, he remembered how to laugh. He had learned a new way to live. And then he had the chance to learn it again and again. 

He bought himself a pineapple on the way to work and set it on his desk. Like a moth to a flame, Lara Lavellan came to his office. He couldn't help smiling.

"Lara. Would you like some pineapple? I was just thinking of finding someone to share it with." 

Lara stared at the fruit as if she'd never seen one before. Perhaps she hadn't. Solas rummaged through his desk for a knife. 

"Lara?" She was glaring furiously as the pineapple. "Should I save it for later, or do you want some?" 

"Yes. No." She didn't take her eyes off the fruit. "I mean, yes, I want pineapple, but not that one."

Solas twirled the knife in his hand and waited for clarity. It did not come. Lara tore her eyes away from the pineapple, and they settled warily on the painting on his wall. "I should go." 

Solas set the knife down, disappointed. "Was there something you needed?" 

"No. No I don't... no." 

As she backed out of his office, Solas picked up the offending fruit and slowly spun it in his hands. It looked to be a good one, no strange marks, no one had gouged profanity into it. He was aware of no Dalish beliefs regarding pineapples and the sharing thereof. 

He shrugged to himself. Varric would eat some. He'd bring it over to the Ladybird. But why had she come to his office in the first place?   
~~~~~~  
All evening Cassandra's voice kept ringing in her head. _We do not accept coincidences._

So what was that dream? Was it _his_ dream? Was she occupying the spot of yet another girlfriend in his sleeping mind? Or was it someone else's memory and they both assumed it was their own dream? He didn't reference it. He didn't seem to know she had been there. 

Or maybe it _was_ a coincidence. Was it pineapple season? Did pineapples have a season? She pulled out her phone and started typing furiously. Maybe she had seen pineapples and then incorporated them into a dream, and Solas had seen pineapples and incorporated it into tea time, and none of this was related. 

_We do not accept coincidences._

She kicked herself for not accepting the pineapple when he offered. The craving that began in the morning was roaring in her now. She searched through her cupboards for anything that would make an acceptable dinner, but her mouth demanded pineapple, nothing but pineapple. 

Stupid wolf. Stupid dream. Stupid spiky fruit. 

She grabbed her wallet and ran down the stairs. There was nothing for it but to find one. She ran out the back alley, but something caught her eye back in the bar. She turned around and peered through the window. She could just make out Varric at a table. She couldn't tell if he was alone or with someone, but she could tell that he was _eating a damned pineapple_. 

That sealed it. Val Royeaux was pineapple obsessed, and it was bleeding into her subconscious. She strolled to the store, relieved. When she got there, she decided on apples instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even like pineapples. 
> 
> Also the physics thing is a real thing that's happening right now in physics world. And it could be a coincidence. Or...


	14. Chapter 14

Lara knocked over one of the empty coffee cups sitting at her desk as she reached for her favorite pen. The cardboard gently clattered to the floor. She furiously scribbled corrections on her paper.

“Some of us like to work in a hygienic environment, you know.” The cup had rolled its way toward Dorian’s side of the room. He gingerly kicked it back at her.

She glared at her paper, and then back at her computer. “This can’t be right,” she muttered, shoving her pen into her hair. It bumped into two others that were holding her bun in place.

“I hate to bother you and upset your unusually sunny disposition, but have you looked at your phone today?”

Lara continued glaring at her computer. “No, forgot it at home today like a moron. Why?”

“I think you better look at this.”

Lara finally swiveled around in her chair, tossing the wayward coffee cup in the bin before taking Dorian’s phone. She was greeted with a picture of her sister in a taxi cab. She scrolled down. Ella at the Wycome airport. Ella in an airplane. Ella at the Val Royeaux airport. Her stomach began to turn over. A text conversation she’d had with her the previous week bubbled up uncomfortably in her mind.

_Ella_

_I’m going to come visit you in VR!_

 

_You_

_Sure. Sounds great._

 

_Ella_

_No, seriously! I’m coming to visit!_

 

_You_

_Okay. We can tour the palace and go cheese-tasting._

 

_Ella_

_Perfect! And then I can meet all your friends!_

 

_You_

_Since you are_ totally _coming to visit me in VR, sure, you can meet everyone._

 

_You_

_Look, I’m really busy with work right now, so just call me when you “arrive”_

 

As Lara scrolled through pictures of Ella wandering through the city, it occurred to her for the first time that her sister might not have been joking. Ella at the Ladybird. Ella at the campus gates. Ella throwing up her fingers in victory outside of the physics building.

“Dorian, the pictures are coming from _inside the building,”_ she moaned, practically throwing his phone back at him and running out into the hall.

Ella was standing in the hallway, reading one of the posters on the wall. After every conference, they took their best posters and hung them in the hallway as trophies. Almost no one stopped to read them, and they served more as statements on the personal style of the lab than anything else. Ella looked unimpressed.

Lara took a deep breath. “You made it,” she said, trying to sound like she’d been expecting her all along. Ella’s face lit up, and she ran to Lara for a hug. The jolt caused the pens to bounce out of her hair and tumble to the floor. Lara stiffened in caffeinated shock, but her sister smelled like home, and she relaxed into the embrace. Her feelings of anxiety dissipated. She was suddenly thrilled to see her sister.

When they parted, Ella picked up the fallen pens and stared at Lara accusingly. “You totally didn’t know I was coming today.”

“I… did not.”

“I told you I was coming repeatedly.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“I sent you an itinerary.”

“I thought you were dedicated to the joke.”

Ella shoved the pens into Lara's hands. “You are impossible.”

“Well how was I supposed to know you’d _actually_ come visit me?”

“Yes, what kind of lunatic would want to visit her baby sister in one of the most beautiful cities in the world?”

Ella had her there. Of course she had come to visit. If their roles had been reversed, Lara would have jumped at the first opportunity to visit her sister. The real mystery was how she had afforded the plane tickets. Lara struggled to respond, but Ella had already moved on. 

“Who is _that_?” Ella asked, looking past Lara and biting her lip. Lara followed her gaze to see Cassandra at the far end of the hallway, talking to Professor Irving.

She stiffened. She recognized that tone. “That is my adviser, Dr. Pentaghast.”

“That’s too bad,” Ella sighed, shaking her head slowly. “It’s going to be very awkward for you.”

Cassandra turned to look at them, and Lara gave her a tight-lipped smile while hissing at her sister, “You will _not—”_

“Oh, I’m going to,” she said, waving at Cassandra and beaming. Lara dragged her by the arm out of the hallway and into the lab.

“You don’t have to!”

Ella shook her head sadly. “I'm sorry, sister. It’s too late. It’s been decided.”

Lara dropped her arm. “ _Do not sleep with my PI!”_

A choking cough from the other side of the room caught their attention. When Dorian had control over himself, he held out his hand to Ella. “Won’t you introduce me?”

Lara pursed her lips. “Mirella Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan and worst sister in Thedas. This is Dorian.”

“Absolutely charmed,” he said.  

Lara rubbed her forehead, trying to think. The shock of her sister arriving had dazed her. She had not prepared for this at all. “I have to go pacify terrified undergrads before their first big exam. Dorian, will you watch her and explain to her why she _can’t_ sleep with Cassandra?”

“I don’t usually make a habit of telling people who they can sleep with. Besides," he said, thoughtfully stroking his mustache, "Cassandra could probably use a good tumble.”

Lara’s jaw dropped at the complete betrayal, but Ella stepped forward. “Hang on, I’m going with you. I’ll review some baby physics. I want to see what you’re like as a teacher.”

Lara frowned. Ella would be a distraction, but she really didn’t want a fight. She had to make a decision now before she was late for the damn review session. She also knew that if Ella was with her, at least she wouldn’t be sleeping with her adviser…

“Fine,” she said, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a book, “but take this for when you inevitably are bored to tears.”

“Art history? Since when do you read about art history? Is this _signed_?”

Dorian snorted.

 ~~~~~

The review session went just as terribly as Lara predicted. Phones came whipping out from every corner of the room to take a picture of the identical Dalish women. Lara endured it stony-faced, but students began dropping their phones in surprise, little puffs of smoke rising out of them. Lara glared at Ella, but she was innocently picking at her nails. A spark flew off of one of them.

More than one student with a defunct phone ran out of the room. The rest sat wide-eyed, and few were brave enough to ask the questions they had come for help with. Ella happily read her book, sitting in the lecturer’s chair, feet on the desk. Lara was certain she was going to be reported for this.

She walked miserably with her sister through the gardens after the session. Shoulders hunched, head low, trying not be recognized, as Ella gave her updates of everyone back home. They walked through the campus gates, and she started to wonder if having all of her students fear her couldn't work to her favor. A sharp pain in her side startled her, and she glared at her sister, rubbing the spot. Ella shocked her again, smirking. 

"Quit it!" 

"Well you aren't listening to me!" 

Ella sent a third shock at her, and Lara gasped as it hit her. Then she smiled. She began to chuckle. She laughed until tears streamed out of her eyes. “Did you see their faces?” she sobbed, “Their stupid human faces? Oh, I wish I could have done that the first day. Zapped their stupid phones right out of their thick human hands. I've been trying to teach them physics, but I should have been teaching them manners. So worth it. When they fire me, your fancy law degree better support us both.”

Ella grinned. “I’ll do one better—sue for wrongful termination.”

Lara snorted. She stopped in her tracks as another thought hit her, “Wait, where is all your stuff?”

Her sister was carrying a backpack that looked to be mostly empty. Surely she had packed clothes for this trip.

“In your apartment. I told your landlord that I locked myself out. Friendly man.”

Lara rolled her eyes. The games they played to confuse people when they were 10 had long since lost their appeal to her. They reached the Ladybird and grabbed a small table directly under one of the outdoor space heaters. As Lara ordered them glasses of wine, she could feel Ella’s eyes watching her carefully. For all her casual jokes and threats, Ella was watching her like a hawk.

Lara did not like the scrutiny. “Ella, what are you actually doing here?”

“I was worried about you.” Lara rolled her eyes, but Ella leaned forward in her chair and grabbed her hand. “You moved to a new city, all alone. You stopped calling. You didn’t post anything online. Honestly, I only added your friends because I thought I might learn how you were doing. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have told them you had a twin sister. I wasn’t trying to trick anyone.”

Thom brought them their wine, and Lara was glad for the distraction. Of course she didn’t call home. What would she have said? I’m broke, scared, and floundering? They just would have told her to give up, return to the Marches.

Thom lingered at the table, eying the women. He cleared his throat. “Is this your… sister?”

Ella answered quickly, dropping Lara's hand. “Why, do all elves look the same to you? Or just Dalish elves?”

Thom’s eyes widened, and Lara shook her head at him. “That’s so racist, Thom.”

He apologized, flustered, and ran back inside. Lara knew she shouldn’t laugh, but when Ella made eye contact, they both cackled.

Ella was not done with her lecture. “Deshanna was threatening to demand you return. She thinks you should be teaching _our_ kids. You know she never liked this plan of yours…”

Lara dropped her head into her hands. What plan? She liked physics. Why couldn’t there be a Dalish physicist? Why did her whole future have to be determined by her face? Why couldn’t she be more than one thing?

She straightened up. “I’m not going home. Not until I finish my PhD at least.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. To give everyone peace of mind. Tell them you don’t look skinny and tired, the humans are being kind and open minded, and you haven’t fallen in love with any foreigners.” She paused to take a sip of her wine while Lara tried to look well-fed, energetic, and like she hadn’t kissed half of Orlais. “Well, that and…”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “And?”  

“I have an interview.”

Lara scoffed. “I _knew_ you didn’t come here for me.”

“I _did_ , but the interview paid for the plane tickets, so I figure I have to show up. And if I get it… maybe I’ll stay.”

A hundred thoughts ran through Lara’s head. Excitement, anxiety, relief, resentment. She verbalized the most boring one. “Can you do that? Don’t you have your last year of classes to get through?”

Ella shrugged. “Nobody goes to the third-year classes.”

“That doesn’t sound true.” She couldn’t get her hopes up. Ella could bomb an interview for the first time in her life. Deshanna could drag her home by the ears. Deshanna could drag them _both_ home by the ears. 

Ella rolled her eyes. “Yes, please tell me more about my own profession. Anyway, an internship would be more valuable.”

Lara twisted the wine glass around in her hands. “Deshanna might let _me_ go as long as I’m not costing her anything, but you know you’ll have to go back.” Ella was important, First of the clan. Her fate was always sealed.

“Until I pass the bar, anything I do to better my law career is fair game, and she can deal.”

Lara nodded. Deshanna had set her sister down a path that made her difficult to argue with and win. In retrospect, their Keeper might find this a mistake.

Ella drained her wine. “Now can we please talk about something fun? Where are all your friends? You promised I could meet them.”

Lara sighed shoved her mostly-full glass across the table to her sister. “I’ll have to run upstairs and find my phone. I can’t promise who will show up on such short notice, though.”

~~~

The painting of Hawke was finally dry, waiting only for Solas to deliver it to Varric. The woman had been gone barely two months, and the man was acting like she had died. He wasn’t sure if commissioning the portrait was a sign of how desperately he missed her, or one of their strange jokes demonstrating their devotion to each other. Still, he would not begrudge his oldest friend a favor.

It had been something to work on while contemplating his next piece.

Avoiding fame meant few patrons. He preferred the freedom of choosing his own artistic subjects, but he did miss the enormous blank walls of the noble houses. He rarely had a chance to make true murals as they were meant to be. Vivienne had flat out refused to petition the university on his behalf. 

He considered asking Varric for a wall in the bar as he walked to the Ladybird. The room wasn’t as tall as he’d prefer, but it would scratch his itch.

He was already planning the design of his first panel when he spotted Lara Lavellan sitting outside with a glass of wine and reading his book.

He smiled as he approached. “I thought you had finished that.”


	15. Chapter 15

“I thought you had finished that.”

She lifted her eyes to him, and Solas immediately recognized his mistake. Different hair, the slight tingle of magic marking her as a mage, a focused, hard stare, a different way of holding herself. This was Mirella. She did not correct him, however. “Don’t you ever read a book more than once? See if there was anything important you missed? Get a new interpretation of the story? Or in this case, history?”

He smiled. It was a clever lie, hidden behind an intelligent sentiment. “Indeed, I have done that on many occasions. But I do not think that is what you are doing today, Mirella.”

The woman clapped the book shut and dropped it to the table. Her smile faded quickly as she examined him. “Just Ella, please.” Solas stood patiently while he was scrutinized. The sudden shift in her attitude was concerning. “You must know my sister well, to recognize an imposter so quickly.”

So he was to be tested. “Perhaps I simply pay attention to details.”

She eyed the painting in his hand. “And just how detailed is your knowledge of her?”

Her meaning was not lost on him. The barely concealed hostility gave him pause. It felt deeper than reflexive protectiveness for a sister.  “I recently had the good fortune to run into her in the garden and sketch a quick portrait. Tell me, are you enjoying the book?”

She picked it up again and turned her penetrating stare to the cover. “It’s boring. I can tell why my sister likes it. But there is something… familiar about it. I can’t quite figure it out.”

She couldn’t possibly remember him. She had barely known him during her one lifetime. Could her feelings about him have transcended time? But she hadn’t seemed to dislike him back then. She hadn’t survived long enough to learn of his duplicity or his ultimate mistakes.

“The author has written a number of other books. Perhaps you came across one in university.”

She smiled coldly at him. “Perhaps. So how did a painter meet my sister? She’s never been artistically inclined.”

“You must not have read her papers. There is a certain elegance to her equations. But to answer your question, I am auditing one of her classes.”

“And do you find all of your teachers elegant? Or just my sister?”

He was tiring of this. He had no desire distress Lara by antagonizing Mirella. “Currently hers is the only class I attend. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to see to.”

Solas did not wait for her response. He turned his back on her and strode into the bar to find Varric.

~~~

Lara’s phone had fallen behind her bed. She cursed her short arms as she just couldn’t quite reach it. She’d have to move the entire bed frame. The thing weighed a ton. Was it made out of lead? Was she sleeping on a leaden bed this entire time? Was that healthy? She managed to turn the crack between headboard and wall into a wedge, and finally got her phone free.

She sat on the floor with her back against the bed and unlocked the phone. She had a dozen missed texts, but that didn’t matter. She had to figure out who to invite to distract her sister from Cassandra.

She texted Isabela first.

Dagna might work. They could set things on fire together. The text whooshed away, and she texted Lace, too. It was a long shot, and Lara regretted not making more female friends in Val Royeaux who might beguile and charm her sister. 

A table full of women might make her intentions a little obvious, so she invited Dorian for good measure.

Before she even got downstairs, Isabela declined the invitation—she was out of town. Lace had come down with a cold. Nothing from Dagna. Dorian was already on his way.

Her fretting paused the moment she saw Solas at the bar. He was leaning over to hand something to Varric, and her mind went blank as her eyes lingered on his long legs in those ridiculously tight pants. He’d appeared in her dreams again, another woman’s memory of her lover. She was starting to find his presence in her class distracting, though she could not admit it to him. If she could make it through the semester without being fired, something that seemed less likely after today, he wouldn’t be her student anymore.

Not that that meant anything, she told herself.

He spotted her, and her feet brought her to him. He greeted her in the place where they had shared their first kiss. Their _only_ kiss, she reminded herself. The rest had been products of others’ memories and her own imagination. Her very realistic and very active imagination.

Thom winked at her from behind the bar. It occurred to her that he must have witnessed the whole thing. This did not soothe the pounding of her heart.  

“Well, I should probably let you spend the evening with your sister,” Solas was saying.

“Stay!” she implored too quickly. She took a breath. Exhaled. “Ella said she wanted to meet my friends, and…” she faltered. What _was_ he to her? A man she kissed once, a student, an idle fantasy she'd built up in dreams…

“Do you consider me a friend, Lara?”

His gaze was so sincere.  She was friends with many people she had kissed—pretty much all of her friends in Val Royeaux fit that category. She had even had some rather confusing romantic dreams about friends before. And she could ethically be friends with a student. She could even be friends with someone who sometimes got her name wrong.

She nodded. “I would like to.”

“Then I will stay.”

She tried not to feel elated. Friends don’t make hearts race. The smile on her face was indelible, however, as she led him out to the patio. “Good, because I never got to ask you my questions about your book…”

“Is that why you came to my office the other day? Before I inconsiderately offered you pineapple?”

“It’s a grave insult among us Dalish,” she quipped shaking her head with mock solemnity.

“Death to those who come bearing fruit,” Ella called to them while delicately turning the page of her book. "Unless it's fermented."

Solas took a seat at the table across from Ella, and Lara sat next to him. “I apologize for the mistake. And for my rudeness to you, Ella. I do not believe I told you my name. I am Solas.”

She tilted her head at him. “A painter, and amateur physicist,  _and_ an author?”

Before he could reply, Dorian arrived, grinning wickedly, Cassandra in tow.

“I cannot wait to hear all about your sisterly exploits in Wycome,” he announced, not bothering with pleasantries. “And look! I brought Cassandra.”

Lara stood up too quickly and banged her knee on the table. “Please, take my seat next to Solas,” she urged to her adviser. Solas quirked an eyebrow at her, but Cassandra sitting next to her sister not an option. Lara limped to the other side of the table, elbowing Dorian in the process. “I won’t forget this,” she hissed.

“Oh, believe me, neither will I.”  

As Lara made room for herself next to Ella, Cassandra seemed very unaware of the distress her arrival had caused. She cheerfully turned to Solas. “I am glad not to be the only professor here.”

Varric appeared seemingly out of nowhere, causing Lara to jump. “It’s nice when we’re not outnumbered by the kids,” he said introducing himself to Cassandra. Of course only the men showed up tonight. Of course. 

Ella began recounting an embarrassing story about Lara and a friend getting caught red-handed defacing a Chantry board while Ella watched, safely out of view, but Lara was trying to listen to what Cassandra was saying to Solas.

“I must admit, I had been hoping you would act as an example to Lara of an elf who is respected at the university.”

Solas considered this, stroking his chin before glancing quickly at Lara. “An example and… a mentor?”

Cassandra beamed. “Precisely.”

Lara began wishing she was back trying to explain to the officer exactly how she had ended up with the revered mother’s knickers when Solas chuckled and said, “I am not sure I have been exactly that.”

~~~~

When the others arrived, the hostility Solas had felt from Ella seemed to melt away. He began to relax, hoping that in this atmosphere he could curry a more favorable impression. Throughout her lifetimes, he had occasionally come into conflict with Lara's family members, sometimes literally explosively, but it was best for everyone if this could be avoided. He hadn’t had to use defensive magic in some time.

Cassandra had turned her attention to Ella, and he could see Lara tensing with every word they shared. She looked ready to bolt. Curious. “You majored in history?” Cassandra asked, “I must admit I never paid much attention to it in school. Do you have a favorite time period?”

Ella inspected her nails, grinning. “Well, everyone expects a Dalish to prefer the ancient past, or perhaps the reclaimed Dalish Empire, but I always liked the chaos of the Dragon Age, particularly Lawson’s Inquisition.”

“Lavellan,” Solas corrected her automatically, “She was a Lavellan, like you.”

A slow smile broke over her face, and she raised her eyes to him in triumph. “I know who you are,” she said quietly.

Solas stiffened. Ella let the moment draw out, holding eye contact with her cold smile, and he wondered again if she could possibly remember her past life. The others never had, not even Lara, not even when he told her about her past lives and their past adventures. If they remembered the Inquisition, he doubted he would be so welcome here. But the way Ella looked at him, as if solving a particularly ugly puzzle…

She broke off her stare. “Your writing style seemed so familiar. You wrote that book— ‘All Your Faves are Elves.’”

Solas exhaled and wrinkled his nose. “I did _not_ choose that title.”

Varric, the guilty party, cackled.

“That was you?” Lara gasped.

“ _All Your Faves are Elves?_ ” Cassandra asked.  Dorian looked equally perplexed.

Lara was practically bouncing in her seat. “It’s this amazing book that claims that history has always been changed to erase elves. So like the Hero of Fereldan—elf. Inquisitor Ameridan? Elf _and_ a mage. And from the second Inquisition, Inquisitor Lawson? Actually Inquisitor Lavellan, and a Dalish elf!”

Ella smirked. “Of course, the Dalish remember her in _our_ histories. The lone survivor of the slaughter of Clan Lavellan was a barren race-traitor. It’s a charming legacy that Clan Ralerfin loves to remind us of.”

Solas flinched at her description of Ellana. _Is that how they chose to remember her?_ His own memories, unbidden, flashed in front of his eyes. The first time he saw her, unconscious and glowing. The way she handled her sword, incredible power and strength and joy. Laughing as she dragged him through the worst parts of the world. Dead-eyed and surviving through sheer determination as her future crumbled in front of her. Bloody and broken as he laid her down on a bed of crystal grace and said goodbye.

Ella was studying him, and he emptied his face of emotion, focusing instead on Lara’s voice. She continued to happily spout off theories from his book. “The Fereldan royal family? They have elves in their ancestry. And of course there were always rumors that Van Gogh was an elf, why else was his work ignored? Why else cut off his ears?”

“If the book was so popular with your clan, perhaps I can give you my excess copies to send home.”

“And will you sign each of them?” Ella asked, batting her eyes at him before sneering at her sister. Dorian snorted, and Lara’s smile faded. “Keep your books, Solas. Our clan doesn’t need your charity. We already know who our people are.”

Solas nodded. Dorian smiled brightly, smoothing over the tension. “Well I’d appreciate a copy, signed or no. I’d love to find out how laughably wrong Tevinter’s history books are.”

“I would also be interested,” Cassandra said, “It sounds quite… blasphemous.”

The night was winding down, and Solas made his excuses. He offered to walk Cassandra home, but to his surprise, Varric offered, and Cassandra accepted. It seems there was a first time for everything, including a friendship between those two. Lara gave him a strained goodbye, clearly embarrassed by her sister's rebuke and aware of her watchful eye. He knew her temper. He would leave them to argue in peace. 

~~~~~

“I always wondered what kind of man would keep your attention for more than five minutes.” Lara pursed her lips. If her sister had come all the way from Wycome to embarrass her, mission accomplished. And she did _not_ need help in that department. Ella flopped onto her sofa and propped her feet on the arm. “I mean you can’t be serious with him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about," she snarled through gritted teeth, "I’m not _with_ anyone.”

Ella sneered. “Not yet. But the way you moon over that painter. Like you’re a kid. It's ridiculous. You know he’s a mage, don’t you?”

Lara refused to walk around the couch to face her sister. She stood, arms folded, disbelieving. “So are you. What does that have to do with anything?”

Ella whipped around. “I thought you came here to finish your PhD. To follow a dream and make something of yourself. Not bang random professors who are old enough to be your grandfather.”

“What is your problem?”

“Honestly, maybe Deshanna was right. Maybe you should go home.”

Lara felt cold. Ella was First, they would listen to her. If she told them Lara was in trouble, or wasting her time, that would be it. Lara's voice would mean nothing in the matter. “Just earlier you said you agreed with me. That you wanted me to stay.”

“Earlier I didn’t know you were in love with some flat-eared asshole!”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Lara grabbed her backpack and slammed the door behind her. She started walking with no direction in mind. Her phone started buzzing in her pocket so she threw it into her backpack where she couldn’t hear it.

Her feet automatically took her to campus. It was well-lit, at least. She sat on the bench where she met Hawke, and wished the woman would appear now with a hot cider a kind word. What had just happened? She never argued with Ella. Especially over a man. 

The coldness of the bench seeped into her, and she had to move. Without direction, she went to the physics building. She hesitated at her lab door. She didn’t want anyone to see her spending the night here. The Deep Roads would work better.

The lava running through the walls was soothing. She dropped her backpack and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through the angry and then worried texts from her sister and found a stern email from Leliana. She wanted to meet in the morning regarding certain incidents reported by her students. Lara ran her hand through her hair and groaned. She would be fired, and Ella could have her wish. Maybe she had planned it this way from the start. 

She sat down at her old desk chair and swiveled around in circles. Nothing about tonight made any sense. Her sister had never been cruel to her before. Rude, thoughtless, arrogant, frustrating, sure. But not cruel. Ella supported her when she decided to go to graduate school. When her original plans had fallen through. And Ella had never shown such disdain for a city elf before. Half their friends in Wycome were city elves, and it had never been an issue. Why did she hate him so much? 

She stopped spinning and began pacing. Something wasn't right. She felt gross and angry and... where were all the boxes? All the equipment had been unpacked and set up. Her abandoned work station had been dismantled. She crossed the room and began examining it all. Someone must have written the plan down somewhere. She turned on all of the computers, searching for a protocol, calculations, a master plan, anything. There weren’t even any papers lying around to tell her what this mysterious scientist was thinking.

She pulled up her old calculations on the energy it would take to tear a hole in the Veil and what kind of protections would be needed to protect from the resulting explosion and magical backlash. Essentially, a thicker Veil temporarily broadcast around the area of the tear might be sufficient to control the blast. Based on the equipment set up here, they were planning on going for absorption of energy rather than repulsion. 

It would never work. 

Lara spent the night inputting numbers and tweaking parameters, but by the time her alarm went off in the morning, telling her to get ready to teach her first class, she still could not model a way to absorb that amount of energy with the tools they had here. 

Perhaps they were not done setting up. 

Perhaps they had come to the same conclusion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Varric doesn't get enough credit as a rogue. He could steal my heart any day. 
> 
> There might be way too much going on in this chapter -_- 
> 
> Also, as much as I love yall thinking Solas would be fooled by Ella, he was like a pretty solid spy in his day. He knows what's up. 
> 
> Okay, so much love to all of you. Have a great Labor Day weekend!


	16. Chapter 16

Lara had not slept at all when she showed up to class wearing the same clothes as the night before. Her teeth were unbrushed, her hair was a mess, and she was in a foul mood. The students seemed cowed by her as she passed out exams. Half of them had lost their phones in the previous night’s review session, and the others were too scared to reveal theirs. This, at least, made proctoring the exam easier.

She occasionally walked up and down the aisles in a show of trying to deter cheating, but she honestly didn’t care this morning. She was meeting with Leliana as soon as this test was over. Each student turning in an exam just brought her closer to having to explain why Ella did any of the things she did.

This morning, Lara had no fucking clue.

She thrust the eighty exams into her backpack, bought herself the largest latte possible with four extra shots of espresso— _Are you sure?—Did I stutter?—_ and walked over to Leliana’s office.

Asignon was already there, which just made her angrier. Lara was too furious to even be worried.

“Well,” Leliana said cheerfully, smiling at both of them once Lara had taken her seat. Roderick smiled imperiously at Lara, staring down his nose as he stood by Leliana’s desk. “I’ve had some… interesting reports. Some students claimed that you used magic to clone yourself and then blew up their phones.”

Lara stared at Leliana, pretending Roderick was just some horrifying Orlesian statue. “I’m not a mage.”

“Legally, I’m not allowed to ask,” she said delicately, “However, we do frown upon using magic during classes, and using offensive magic on students is clearly not allowed.”

Lara took a deep breath. “I understand. To my knowledge, there are no cloning spells, but I’m not a mage, so I could be mistaken. Regardless, you might wonder why those students had their phones out in the middle of a review session to begin with. Perhaps they should be more careful with their things.”

“Is that a threat?” Asignon spluttered, saliva flying in every direction. “Are you threatening students?”

Leliana held up a hand to him. “I think she was only threatening their phones, Roderick.”

“As I’m not a mage, I’m not threatening anyone.”

“She is not _fit_ to teach that class, Leliana.”

“Not fit?” Lara sneered, “You _demanded_ I teach the class because _you_ didn’t want to do it. Normally it’s split into three sections and taught by three separate people with a graduate student devoted to review sessions, right? I’m doing the work of four people for _your_ department because of _your_ laziness and prejudice. Firing me just makes more work for you—work you already didn’t want to do.”

Leliana choked down a smile as Roderick’s face turned a deep shade of purple. Lara wondered if he was going to hit her.

“Well, Roderick?” Leliana sounded cool and serene, but Lara could see the laughter in her eyes. “She makes a compelling point. It would be difficult to find replacement lecturers at this point in the semester. What punishment would you like for her?”

He slammed his fist on Leliana’s desk. “I want this… this… this _elf_ out of our graduate school.”  

Leliana’s face soured considerably. She eyed his fist on the desk until he removed it. “Denied. Anything else?”

Roderick was flabbergasted. His mouth was working, but no words came out. “In that case, Lara, I would urge you to leave your sister at home next class.” She looked at her watch. “If you’d like to walk with me, I have business in the physics building you might be interested in.”

They left Roderick still slack-jawed in Leliana’s office. Lara couldn’t unclench her jaw. She wondered what words Roderick had _wanted_ to say. She considered getting over her anger at Ella to convince her to light his shoes on fire.

The most well-dressed woman Lara had ever seen was waiting outside for them. Leliana introduced Vivienne, Chair of the arts department and her wife, and they walked through campus together. Lara, still livid, sleepy, and caffeinated, stayed quiet.

Vivienne seemed annoyed. “Are we truly going through with this terrible plan of Justinia’s?”

“Yes, they are going to try it today. After stalling all summer, Meredith has finally finished getting it all set up. She has assured her it will be quite safe.”

“Meredith?” Vivienne tsked. “Our dear Justinia has mistaken arrogance for confidence. She would have done better to assign the project to Irving.”

“Let’s hope you are wrong. This benefactor has promised an even larger contribution to the university should the project prove successful.”

Vivienne released a long-suffering sigh. “Money will make even the best of us act the fool.”

Lara realized through her fog of angry self-pity that they were talking about the Deep Roads lab.

Lara grabbed Leliana’s arm. “You can’t turn on the machine.”

Vivienne quirked an eyebrow at her and eyed the hand gripping her wife’s arm. Lara removed it. “I’ve been saying that for months, dear. Common sense seems to have eluded the physics department.”

Lara shook her head. “It’s not common sense, it’s math. Their safety measures won’t work. Their plan is flawed.”

Leliana studied her for a moment. “Then we better walk quickly. They’ll be starting any minute.”

Arriving in the lab, Lara was momentarily stunned by the sheer number of people in the cavern. The flood lights had been turned on, and what she had considered a soothing, lonely place for calm studying was now bustling with activity from seemingly the entire department.

Meredith was talking happily to Justinia, while her postdocs made the final preparations.

“Um, pardon me,” Lara attempted, but neither woman paid any attention to her. She cleared her throat. Nothing. She raised her voice, “Excuse me!”

Meredith stared down at her with an irritated expression. “Pardon? And who are you?”

Lara had been attending seminars for two months with these people now and was constantly reminded of her status as the only Dalish on campus, but of course this professor would pretend not to know who she was today.

“I’m the person telling you that this project is going to end in an explosion. I’ve run the numbers a dozen different ways and your plan to absorb the Fade energy released when you tear the Veil is insufficient. This isn’t safe.”

Meredith’s expression turned venomous. “Who do you think you are?” Her voice carried through the cavern. Activity died down as all eyes turned to them. “Someone get this _rat_ out of my lab.”

“She is _my_ student.” Cassandra’s voice rang out. “You will not speak to her that way.”

“Someone should teach your student her place.” Lara held her ground, unable to be intimidated by people this morning. Meredith sneered. “You’re the one who wrote that little diatribe on that paper out of Tevinter. You think that tearing down your betters will make you a name?” She scoffed. “You think you’re going to do that to me?”

“I think I’m going to prevent you from starting an experiment that will end in disaster. It’s not safe. I’ve spent weeks down here studying this equipment. It won’t work!”

“Turn it on,” Meredith demanded of her postdoc. He hesitated. “ _Now.”_

He nodded.

~~~

 “Where the _fuck_ is my sister?”

Mirella stood in the doorway of his office, fists clenched. Solas stood up from his desk and glanced at the time. Lara’s Friday morning class should be finished, so she could be anywhere. This would not appease the tiny mage giving off sparks in his doorway.

“Good morning, Mirella. I’m afraid I don’t have the whereabouts of your sister. Is something wrong?”

“Don’t play stupid. She didn’t come home last night.”

Solas frowned. They had both _been_ home when he left. “I fear I do not have the relationship with your sister that you are insinuating. Lara has never been to my home, nor do I know where she spent the night.”

Mirella marched into the room and lowered her voice. “ _I remember you._ ” He froze. His fears were confirmed with her next sentence. “I remember _her_. My sister. The Inquisitor. Ellana.”

She had been baiting him last night. Testing him. “I don’t know—”

“Enough of your shit, Solas. I read your book. You remember all of it.”

She was right. For the first time in a millennium, he was caught. And if she truly remembered what happened back then, she deserved some honesty from him. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced the small office. “What do _you_ remember, Mirella?”

Her fury cooled slightly, and he saw something else behind it. Fear. “I remember dying, torn apart by templars, while she was on the other side of the world with _you_.”

Solas leaned heavily on his desk. He felt genuine pity. To remember one’s own death, particularly one as brutal as Mirella’s, was not something he would wish on anyone. “Your death was—”

He was not given the chance to finish that thought. An explosion rocked the building. The Veil trembled around them as reverberations and aftershocks quaked through it. Both mages stumbled under the pressure, but Solas recovered first. He pushed past Mirella and ran for the door to the building.

Mirella was right behind him.

He could feel the tear in the Veil, Fade pouring into the world. It was coming from the direction of the physics building.

They both ran.

Everywhere, people looked confused, scared. Only a few were staring the direction Solas now ran, mages, urging their companions flee in another direction.

Dorian stood dazed outside the physics building, staring in horror at the ground. They could all feel it, energy and demons under their feet.

“Where is she?” Solas demanded.

“They’re all in the lab in the Deep Roads,” he said. Solas pushed his way into the building, Dorian yelling behind him, “But you can’t get down there! There’s—”

He didn’t hear the rest. He flew down the stairs to the basement. Secret elevator in the corridor. He fade-stepped through the locked doors, happy to find the elevator behind them rather than an empty shaft. He rode it to the bottom and was released into chaos.

Upturned and broken equipment littered the floor. A giant scorch mark started in the middle of the room and reached all the way up one of the walls. A dead woman lay in its path. Not Lara. 

A surprising number of mages were fighting off demons while others cowered behind upended desks. Vivienne and Irving were protecting the bulk of them. Solas spotted a pile of mage staffs and grabbed one. Cassandra was using one as a club to fend off a demon. He cast a freezing spell just before she swung, and it shattered. He ran to her side. He was out of practice casting spells like this, but this Cassandra had clearly been training. He panted, trying to keep up with her ferocity and scanning the area for Lara between hits. 

“Where is Lara?” he demanded, just as Ella dragged Dorian into the cavern. Cassandra looked stricken and simply gestured at the rift. Solas gritted his teeth. There was only one option. He was going in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh, yall, I'm having so much fun writing this ^.^


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of y'all seemed a little upset about that cliffhanger I left you on, so I'm posting this a little earlier than planned.

Pushing himself through the rift and into the Fade drained his mana. He shoved his staff into the rocky ground to stabilize himself and peered into the distance. All of the demons in the area had seemingly fled or been pulled through the rift. This was a vast wasteland, flat and empty. He easily spotted Lara and another atop a pile of rubble. 

Lara appeared to be moving small rocks from one side of her to another. She appeared to be in no hurry, selecting each rock carefully, gently dislodging it from the rubble, and tossing it aside. Her hands were bloody, scraped, not glowing. Justinia was next to her, motionless on the ground. Lara was breathing heavily. Justinia was not.

He turned his attention back to the horizon. This area would not remain empty for long. He gripped his staff and wished he had brought another weapon.

 “Can you fight?” he asked Lara, “Do you know how?”

Lara shook her head without looking up from her rocks. Another dislodged and tossed to the side. 

“We need to move. More demons will be coming.”

“I think… I think my leg’s broken.”

Solas turned his attention away from the horizon and crouched to examine her. He realized her movements were not the random actions of a woman in shock—her leg was lodged in the rubble. He had missed it because of the unnatural angle at which her leg now stuck out from her body. He stepped back and raised his arms, the rubble lifting. He dumped it away from her. Once dislodged, her foot looked even worse. He put a hand on her shoulder, probing her with healing magic and tried to gauge the damage, cursing.  “So much more than your leg is broken, vhenan.”

She nodded, and he saw her blown out pupils, the sweat on her skin. Shock would only keep the pain at bay for so long. He could patch her broken femur with what magic he had left, but the bones in her foot were shattered. She was not walking out of here. He tried not to think of what could have been had she landed on her head.

He didn’t have time to hesitate. Demons might come, but the broken femur could kill her first if he tried to move her. He pushed his last vestiges of magic into her, willing the bone to mend, and she began shivering.

“I’ll carry you on my back,” he said.

“We can’t leave her,” she said, looking at Justinia.

He held her cheek and gently guided her gaze away from the dead woman. “I’m sorry, vhenan. I can’t carry you both, and there’s nothing I can do for her now.”

He helped her get on his back, her right leg dangling awkwardly. He couldn’t figure out how to hold her and the staff.  He was reluctant to leave it, but at this point it might not even help much should they need to fight.

“It’s alright,” she said, as if reading his mind, “the wolf is coming. He’ll protect us.”

Solas’s stomach turned to ice. “The wolf,” he repeated, “You’ve _seen_ him?”

Lara pressed her forehead into his back. “I can feel him. He’s on his way.”

“Stay with me,” he urged her, starting the trek back to the rift. “You can sleep when we’re out of here.”

The wolf was coming. If he stayed he could… but they didn’t have time. Lara was shivering on his back. Her leg needed to be elevated, her foot needed surgery, she needed to lie down and come out of shock or she could die.

The wolf would not come fast enough today.

~~~

Lara woke up to a dull aching in her foot. Someone had suspended it in the air. She tried to move it, and her entire body jolted in pain.

“Careful,” Solas said, “I would try not to move.”

She was in a hospital bed. Solas sat on the bed next to hers, looking unharmed. The aching was persistent and growing less dull by the second. She tried to focus on him. “We’re in the university hospital,” he told her, “The nurses have done what they can to make you comfortable, but there has been some resistance from the doctors.”

“You saved my life,” she said. Her memories of the last few hours were a jumbled mess, but she remembered the Fade. The pain in her leg would make it hard to forget. It was throbbing in time to her heartbeat. If she could control her breathing, it would hurt less. 

“I would gladly do it again.”

Lara tried to focus on the words, but the pain was shooting up her leg and blurring her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to whimper. She failed.

“Here,” he said, crossing over to her. He pressed something into her hand, sitting on her bed. “If the pain is severe, push this button.” Lara clenched the button in her fist with everything she had.

“We are currently quarantined while they decide what to do with us. Your foot will require surgery.”

The pain started to dull almost immediately, and Lara found herself feeling growing sleepy.

“Quarantined?”

“They believe we are abominations. It is difficult to prove the negative.”

Lara let her eyes close. “I don’t think a demon would like to live in me right now,” she sighed, "I personally would go elsewhere." Solas chuckled, and she opened one eye the smallest bit to see him smile. “You’re too pretty to be an abomination,” she murmured.

He laughed again as the world faded into a soft darkness. She felt him press a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.” An abomination would never sound so melodic, or be so gentle, or run his fingers through her hair like this…

~~

The second time Lara woke up, she found her body much stiffer. Tiny groans escaped her dry, parched throat as she tried to assess what was going on.

“Don’t try to move,” Ella urged her. She sounded like she had been crying. Lara painstakingly opened her eyes and tried to speak, but emitted only a croak.

“Here,” Ella held a cup and pressed the straw to Lara’s lips. Pure, cool water blessed her throat and she sighed. Her lungs felt tight. Had breathing always been this difficult?

“Solas?” she asked.

“He saved your life.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

“No, I mean again. When you got here, the surgeons wouldn’t operate on your foot. Everyone kept saying you were abominations, rumors that you had killed Meredith and Justinia… nobody wanted to help. And then you had an embolism—you almost died. And Solas kept you alive with magic and basically shouted at everyone until they fixed you.”

Lara vaguely remembered struggling to breathe, shouting and activity. She had a hard time imagining Solas raising his voice at someone. She was sorry she missed it. “What kind of idiot dies from a broken bone?” she groaned.

“One broken bone? There are 26 bones in the foot alone and you shattered most of them. You’re lucky you didn’t die of blood loss on the way here. You’re lucky you didn’t get eaten by a demon. You’re lucky…” Ella faltered as tears began falling down her face.

Lara’s whole body was throbbing in dulled pain. “I do not feel lucky.”  

Ella cried harder. “I’m so sorry, Lara. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I’m so sorry. The thought that… you could have died and the last things I said to you were…”

Lara had no desire to remember their argument. It felt like it had happened a week ago. She realized it might have. She had no idea what time it was, much less what day it was.

Ella continued blubbering, multiple days of regrets falling out of her mouth. “When I saw how much you liked him, I panicked. I just kept thinking that he was going to take you away, you were never going to come home.” Ella hung her head in her hands. “I don’t think I could be Keeper without you.”

Lara gently patted her sister’s hand. “We’re not… it’s not like that. I barely know him.”

Ella sniffed and frowned at her. "Lara, he went into the Fade to find you. Everyone saw it. Then he risked his job and his reputation by revealing himself as a mage to save you again."

Lara understood what her sister was saying, she did. And part of her brain was definitely considering the idea that Solas was somehow in love with her after two months of false starts. A vague yet firm memory of him calling her 'vhenan' in the Fade. The way he sat by her bed and stroked her hair for hours while she fluttered in and out of consciousness. The fear in his eyes as she fought to breathe. Part of her was struggling to understand this, to believe it.  

But most of her brain was stuck on another problem all together, something solid, concrete, mathematically solvable.  "How did he get into the Fade? Most mages can’t summon that kind of energy." 

Ella stared at her, brows furrowed in disbelief. "Really? That's what you are taking away from this? Energy requirements? I can't..." she threw her hands up in the air. "Fine. I don't know how he got into the Fade. I couldn't manage it." 

"You tried?" Lara felt her already slow thoughts turn to mush. "What about your interview?"

"A science experiment gone wrong blew my sister up and launched her into the fucking Fade, and you're worried about whether or not I got the job of getting Orlesian lawyers coffee every morning?"

Lara took a moment to think about this. "Did you?"

Ella shook her head in disbelief. "They agreed I could interview at some later date when my sister was not in the hospital. Turns out the woman interviewing me knew Justinia and was fairly distraught about the whole thing."

Lara tried not to fall asleep. She felt that perhaps she had spent a lot of time asleep recently, and being awake might help. "Ella," she said slowly, "What happened?" 

Ella gave her a rundown of events. Meredith opened a hole in the Fade. The explosion killed her and Justinia. Lara remembered that part vividly. Demons poured into the lab, and the physics department fought them off. Solas pulled her out of the Fade. The doctors delayed helping them for hours. Lara had to have her foot entirely reconstructed. She also had a cracked femur that had mostly healed, three cracked ribs, a mild concussion, and a broken collarbone. The explosion, mysteriously, had not made the news at all, and the university was paying entirely for all of her medical bills. For now, Lara and Solas were off the hook for the deaths of Justinia and Meredith.

Lara was disappointed to find that nobody had filmed the physics department fighting a horde of demons. She felt it might have gone a long way toward changing stereotypes about nearsightedness and noodly arms, her own notwithstanding. She was even more disappointed to find Roderick yet lived and had been nowhere near the incident.

"Did you tell mom and dad?" Lara asked, feeling oddly guilty. 

"Not yet." 

That was good. Lara wasn't certain she could comfort another crying relative. Or possibly a shouting one. It was her decision to come to Val Royeaux. That would probably come up in future conversation about how all of this could have been avoided.

It was late Sunday afternoon, and Lara had lost two entire days. Her right leg was in a cast that went from her toes up to her thigh. She tried to give a toe a wiggle and was rewarded with a shooting pain. Ella was explaining to her everything that was going to happen next—follow up appointments, cast removal, rehab, but Lara’s eyes fell on a vase of large, brightly colored daisies on the windowsill. Ella's voice receded into the background as Lara remembered warm hands, a soft voice, and the press of lips on her forehead. 


	18. Chapter 18

Lara had a torrent of visitors in her hospital room. Dorian arrived first, bearing chocolates and a miserable expression as he apologized for not being there when it happened. Varric came with a comically large flower arrangement. Ella picked out each crystal grace and threw them in the bin. Cassandra came with surprisingly trashy novels and an assurance that Lara should not worry about lab work and that someone was covering her classes. Lace came with homemade apple muffins and left with a ridiculous blush when Ella winked at her. The Iron Bull arrived with Krem and Isabela and offered to sneak her out. As much as Lara wanted to see the Qunari sneak, she had to decline. They left her with yet more candy and a bottle of liquor that was quickly confiscated. Leliana was her least favorite visitor, coming only with questions Lara didn’t want to answer or even think about, particularly those concerning Justinia.  

Either there was no news about the rift, or nobody wanted to tell her about it. 

Ella was constantly by her side, refusing even to leave when visiting hours ended. She elected to sleep in the chair by Lara’s bed. The second night, a nurse brought in a pillow and another chair, so she could stretch out better.

When Lara slept, she slipped into the Fade almost instantly. The familiar wasteland now filled her with dread, but her wolf was waiting for her. The distance he had once kept from her was forgotten. He stayed close, leading her to memories.  

She floated in a pool of water, quiet and serene. The moon was large in the sky above her, and unfamiliar stars twinkled. She languidly kicked her legs, enjoying the solitude and the feeling of water running through her hair. She might have been there for hours when her leg began to feel heavy, and the cold of the water tightened her chest. She fought to stay afloat, but her foot was weighing her down, pulling her under the water. She was drowning.

The wolf had her in his jaws, dragging her out of the water. She barely caught her breath before plunging into another memory. Chaos all around her, a green sky. Solas held her wrist, thrusting it into the air.

“Quickly, before more come through!”

A pain jolted through her arm, and a bright, shifting Fade rift above her sealed itself.

Lara woke up. Ella was dozing in her chair, but Solas stood by the door, looking tired and rumpled.

“Bad dreams?” he asked.

She glanced at her hand. “They haven’t closed that rift, have they.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

He asked her what she knew about the project. Lara could tell him about why it went wrong, but she couldn’t tell him much about why they did it at all. Cassandra would know more. She wanted to ask him about how he got into the Fade, but he left too quickly. As long as she was on these pain meds, her brain was too slow to solve these problems anyway.

When the doctors were convinced her lungs were healed and were not going to misbehave again, Lara was discharged from the hospital. Solas was waiting in the lobby.  “I felt I should warn you,” he said, standing up, “Varric has arranged a ‘Welcome Home’ party.”

Ella pushed Lara's chair through the automatic doors, and Solas followed. It was not a long trip back to the Ladybird, but Lara did not like being wheeled around. She did not like not being able to control the speed and direction of her movement. Until her collarbone was healed and she could get her arm out of its sling, she was at the mercy of others. Until she could exchange her large cast for a boot, she was stuck in the chair. 

She didn’t want to be, but by the time they arrived at her party, Lara was in a foul mood. The painkillers were making her slow and stupid, and that combined with the constant dull ache across her entire right side was making her cranky. Everyone kept asking her questions about her injury and her recovery, and she was bored of thinking about it. Ella had apparently been paying better attention to the doctors than Lara had, because she had the answers to every question. The large cast would last a week, then a boot, rehab would take months, a vial of elfroot a day.

Varric had put up a large banner across the entire outside of the bar that said, “Welcome Home.” Someone had purchased a variety of brightly colored permanent markers, and everyone took a turn signing her enormous cast. Lara tried to act like it was not completely weird to have so many people staring at her leg. She also tried to pretend like she was fine with how much her sister was talking to Cassandra. 

The party turned out to be almost as much about Solas as it was about Lara. Everyone knew he had rescued her, and she listened curiously to the stories they fabricated about their experience in the Fade. She had told no one any details of what happened, and yet everyone seemed certain about their version. She rather liked the one where a demon held her foot in its mouth like a dog with its toy and Solas wrestled her away from it. Solas likewise did not seem interested in correcting the record. 

Halfway through the night, Hawke showed up to raucous cheers with Bethany and Fenris in tow. Bethany gave Lara a card, signed by most of the first year physics class. She noticed a number of their “well wishes” had been scratched out by a later hand. 

With Hawke’s arrival, Lara could fade entirely into the background of the evening. The homecoming party was now about her, and Lara was fine with it. Solas, having been plied with alcohol and toasted by everyone at the bar early in the evening, was happily drawing up the length of her cast with the colorful markers, at one point sitting on the ground so he could draw on the untouched bottom portion.  She felt a little like the Sunburst Chapel. She couldn’t make out much of his work. She’d have to find a mirror later.

When Lara started to yawn uncontrollably, the problem dawned on everyone simultaneously. Heads turned to look at each other in concerned confusion. Lara was not going to make it up the stairs. The notion of having someone carry her was briefly entertained, but her apartment wasn’t exactly big enough for her to maneuver in her chair with her leg sticking straight like a battering ram. Suddenly all conversations shifted to possible living arrangements, and Lara was reminded of her first time at the bar as her friends attempted to find someone with a spare bed and zero stairs.

Finally, Solas said quietly, "My condo is wheelchair accessible, and I have a spare room." 

Lara felt Ella's head whip around. This was a bad idea. It was bad idea because of Ella, who still had her misgivings that Lara didn’t understand. It was a bad idea because of the way Solas reluctantly offered, waiting until it was clear no other options were available to her. It was a bad idea because Lara didn’t want him to see her this way, drugged up and cranky, in pain and requiring help, and because she wanted to say yes, to be closer to him, to see his home and exist as part of it.

As Lara hesitated to agree, Cassandra spoke up for her. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she said, beaming at Solas. The expressions from the others were less overwhelmingly positive. Varric was shaking his head and Ella simply frowned. The Iron Bull seemed to be collecting money from Dorian, Lace, and Dagna, who all gave rather annoyed looks at Solas.

 “Right, then, hero,” Ella sighed, “Let’s pack a bag for her.”

 ~~~~

Ella pushed open the door to the apartment, and Solas blinked in surprise at the walls. Each had been covered from floor to ceiling in a white film that Lara had been using as makeshift whiteboards. Each was covered in her tight script in equations and notes. One, he saw, was dedicated to questions she had about his book. 

Ella watched his reaction as he scanned the walls and shook her head. "You really haven't been up here before, have you." 

"Will she require them?" He asked, gesturing to the walls.

Mirella picked up the roll of fresh plastic sheets and shoved it into his arms. “Just paper her room with them. She’ll do the rest.” She tossed some dry erase markers in his direction and waltzed into the bedroom.

Solas pulled out his phone and took pictures of the equations already on the wall, should Lara wish to refer to them again. He could hear Mirella opening drawers in the next room. He walked past her, into the bathroom, grabbing her shampoo. Anything else she needed, he probably had.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Ella said, frowning at a small duffel. “She owns like two pairs of shorts. No pants are going over that cast.”   

“I can wash her clothes as needed.”  

“Are you going to give her a sponge bath, too?” she snapped. She sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s still… I _am_ grateful to you. You saved her when I…” Ella looked nearly as tired as he felt. Her face dropped into her hands. “I haven’t even told our parents yet. I don’t think they’ll ever forgive me for this.”

“You are not responsible for anything that happened to her.”

“ _She_ is my responsibility. Her coming here at all… it’s because of me.”

Solas wasn’t certain what to say, or that anything he had to say would even be welcome. He had his suspicions about those actually responsible-- the origin of the project, the so-called secret benefactor, but two days of searching had yielded little. He was not the first to show up to Meredith and Justinia’s offices searching for answers.

“Do I look like her secret-keeper, Solas?” Leliana had shouted at him. “I don’t know why she did this.” She gestured angrily to the papers on Justinia’s desk. “There are no answers here.”

He had found Cassandra interrogating the members of Meredith’s lab. The traumatized mentees could offer little in explanation before she sent them home. “It doesn’t make any sense, Solas. I didn’t even know she was working on the project. It wasn’t her specialty. And the way it happened… There should have been safety measures in place.”

Whoever had wanted this rift, they had not shown themselves yet. The fact that the two people most knowledgeable about the project had died in its execution seemed too convenient. That Lara was inches from sharing the same fate filled him with a slow and deep anger he had not felt in years.

“We should all get some rest,” he said to Mirella. “Blaming ourselves will not heal her faster.”

Lara was barely keeping her eyes open when they returned with her bag. She fell asleep on the short walk to his condo. Ella spent the time lecturing him on various aspects of her care—medication doses, foot care, Lara’s limitations.

“You own this whole place?” Ella said incredulously when they stepped out of the elevator. Solas had the entire top floor of the building to himself. “I guess you’re doing a bit better this time around.”

Solas suppressed a smile. “Her room is through here,” he said softly, rolling a sleeping Lara through the hall. Ella dropped the duffel bag of her things in the corner. She bent down to talk to Lara, waking her up with a hand on her face. “Lara, I’m leaving you with Solas, now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” A quiet sigh was her only response. 

Mirella paused at the elevator, crossing her arms. She almost pushed the button to leave, then whipped her head around. “Is it happening the same as last time?" Her eyes were earnest, scared. "I wasn’t there at the beginning. I never got the full story.”

This he could answer. “No. The monster who tore through the Veil back then is long dead, the technology used for such destruction long gone. This rift is far smaller and less of a danger to the world. As for what happened after, this will be nothing like last time,” he assured her.

“No templars anymore, at least,” she said with a cautious smile. “So that’s one thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Get some rest, Ella. She’ll be alright. And so will you.”

~~

Lara was still dozing in her chair, head forward on her chest. It looked incredibly uncomfortable. Solas drew the sheets back on her bed and placed as many pillows as he could find near the bottom.

“Lara, would you prefer to sleep in the bed?”

She sighed in annoyance. He reached down and got her left arm around his shoulder and pulled her up onto her foot while guiding her cast gently to the floor. She leaned heavily into him, dropping her head to his shoulder. He had thought to maneuver her straight from the chair to the bed, but her hand gripped his shoulder tightly. She was… hugging him. Her right arm was pressed between them in its sling, but she held fast with her left. Resting his chin against her hair, he stood, for the first time in over a hundred years, simply holding her.

“Ella says you’re in love with me,” she murmured.

“Did she say anything else?”

“Mmm. She talks too much.”

He chuckled. He could not argue with that. “Come. Let’s get your leg up.”

She let him put her to bed now. He got her leg propped up the pillows. Changing her into pajamas wasn’t really an option, so he settled for leaving her duffel within arm’s reach of the bed should she wake up enough to want it. Then he undid her arm sling.

“Lara—” With great effort she opened her eyes and focused on him. “I can fix your collarbone tonight. You won’t have to wear the sling again.”

Her eyes fell shut again. “Do it.”

She was deeply asleep by the time he finished healing the bone. He covered her left side with the blankets as best he could and left the room. Not having slept for the past three days, he did little more than strip to his briefs before collapsing in his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, look, Solas and Ella are almost friends.  
> JK, they will probably never be friends. 
> 
> Oh hey, there is a rift in the Fade and Hawke is back. I wouldn't read too much into it.


	19. Chapter 19

Illeana burst into his tent with a wave of freezing air. “Why did we ever come to the South?” she huffed, snow falling off her shoulders.

“We—”

“And do not tell me it was my idea. My ideas are clever and always result in perfect outcomes. Never a mistake in my life.” She had her back to him, trying the straps of the tent flap closed with tight, angry knots. He could hear the chattering of her teeth through her words.

“Well—”

“But if it was your idea, then I listened to it,” she said, pulling her boots off, “Which also would have been a mistake on my part.”

“Ah.”

“And I refuse to have my first mistake be freezing to death in the South because I foolishly followed a bird here and thought it would be fun to see some magical lights in the sky.” She shimmied under the furs, scooching herself until she was right next to him. He could feel her shivering as she addressed him seriously. “Tell me that before we die here, frozen in each other’s arms, that the clouds are going to part, and the Southern lights will become visible.”

He put his sketchbook to the side and cast a warming spell between them. “We are not going to freeze here, vhenan.”

She sighed, holding out her frozen fingers for him. “And can’t you part the clouds for me?”

He took her hands and pressed her icy knuckles to his lips. “There are limitations to even my magic.”

“Never.” Her eyes dropped to his sketch and she gasped in delight. “You’ve captured her perfectly. It looks like she’ll fly right off the page.” She pulled her hands away, taking his pencil off the floor. “Of course, the beak isn’t quite the right shape,” she said, drawing over his version. “And this feather, here, it needs to be a little longer…”

“Would you prefer her standing for the book? Perched, perhaps?”

“This is perfect,” she said, gesturing to the sketch she continued to modify. “You’ve seen them already, haven’t you?” she asked without looking up. “The lights. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of times before. Is there anything new for you in this world?”

“You are. And more importantly, repetition does not diminish the experience of beauty,” He said, cupping her cheek in his hand and drawing her gaze from the page. “And the experience is never the same twice.”

She leaned in close, her mouth just a whisper away from his. “Sweet talker.”

He kissed her, and her lips parted for him instantly. He was eager, his hands dropping to her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped in pain, drawing away from him.

“Illeana?” She was holding her right side, panting through gritted teeth.

She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to ignore it. I didn’t think it could hurt here.”

Solas did not remember this happening. They had spent a week in this freezing tent, waiting for the clouds to part, tracking different birds and filling their books with sketches and descriptions. Then the heavens opened up, and they spent a week longer, enjoying the sky. There were no injuries, not even frostbite when they fell asleep in the outdoors without a fire to better see the lights. “What is hurting you?”

She lifted up her shirt, the chill painting goose bumps across her skin. Her right side was covered in a dark, angry welt, extending over her ribs. This bruise did not belong here. It was not hers.

He thought quickly, his eyes dropping to her woolen-socked feet as the truth sank in. “And your foot, vhenan? Is it bothering you as well?”

“It’s been throbbing,” she said, grimacing as she set her shirt back down. “Getting worse. I’m sorry.”

“Tel’abelas,” he replied. How long had Lara been sharing his memories? _Their_ memories?

A small groan escaped her clenched teeth, and he realized her pain was bleeding through from the waking world. Solas woke himself up and threw on a pair of pajama bottoms before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. He pushed open the door to Lara’s room. “Lara?”

He heard muffled moans from the bed. She had shoved a pillow over her face. He coaxed her to remove it and helped her sit up to take the medication, holding the glass of water for her. Then he sat with her until the medication kicked in, her breaths deepening as relief took hold.

She had never remembered him before. Not in any lifetime. He had told her the truth about himself before, but having her remember it for herself was completely different. If he went back to sleep now, his own dreams could betray him, as could the relics, artwork, and trinkets scattered about his condo, collected from lifetimes with a woman who never remembered them.

He stood up to leave when her hand reached out and caught his arm. “Don’t go.”

Leaving would have been better. If she was truly remembering, she would be confused. She most likely did not know they were her memories she was experiencing. He wasn’t sure she was even truly awake right now. He should leave. But her hand was insistent on his arm, and he was very tired. She was in pain, and she wanted something he could provide. He would not deny her. He laid himself down next to her, careful to leave a gap between them. She turned her head toward him, scooching herself until her forehead was resting against his upper arm.   

“The lights are visible through the clouds sometimes.” Her hot breath on his arm made his hairs stand up. “They’re caused from solar particles in the atmosphere. If the clouds are high enough, we can see them.”

“Don’t worry, vhenan. We will see them.”

~~~

Lara woke up alone. That… made sense. She had gone to bed alone, hadn’t she? Her dreams felt more real than anything that happened last night. She supposed that was because they weren’t actually dreams. They were memories. Illeana’s this time. It was strange getting to know these women who were long dead through the memories they left behind. She felt a connection with them. She _liked_ them. The biologist, the wanderer, the painter, the warrior. Would the wolf pass her own memories on like this?

She sat up with a groan and blinked at the dark, unfamiliar surroundings. She hadn’t been able to go home last night so they had taken her to… Solas’s apartment. Maybe that’s why she had such intense dreams about him. Last night, anyway. 

A voice inside of her that sounded irritatingly like Ella piped up, _Or you can finally admit to yourself that you dream about him every night because you want him, and if he hadn’t said the wrong name at the bar, you’d be in his other bed right now._ The memories in her head cheerfully pointed out that there was still time for that.

Lara did not feel like arguing with herself or with long dead women she was imagining a conversation with, but she also felt like sitting in Solas’s bed, even his guest bed, was not the place for self-realizations. On the other hand, leaving the room meant coming face to face with the man who she had very comprehensive dreams about kissing. She was safe so long as she was in this room.

Thick curtains kept the room dark. She had no idea what time it was. It occurred to her that she was alone for the first time in days. That was just as well, because she smelled _terrible._ Someone had packed her a bag and left it within arm’s reach. She rummaged through it but came up emptyhanded—when _was_ the last time she had her phone?

She gingerly lifted herself into her chair. Her collarbone seemed fixed. There was a vague recollection of Solas and some blue light. That brought the tally up to two bones, a lung, and a piggyback ride through the Fade. No amount of thanking him could be enough, though her dream companions had some very specific ways in which she could start.

It was a shame her cast prevented her from taking an ice bath.

She wheeled herself to the curtains and pulled them back. The sun was so bright, it must be close to midday. Val Royeaux looked busy and peaceful below, even the university. The physics building stood as if there wasn’t a rift beneath it, and she could just make out tiny people entering and exiting the building. Her stomach turned at the thought, and she turned her attention to her room. One wall had been covered completely in the same dry-erase sheets she used at home. Markers sat ready on a little table.

The first thing, the most important thing, was to brush her blighted teeth. She could not shower or bathe with this damned cast, but creators, she could at least fix her breath. Holding herself up over the counter, she also managed a haphazard sponge bath and to change her shirt. It would have to be enough for now. Not that she was leaving this room.

She eyed the markers on the table. This could occupy her time until Ella showed up and saved her from her own imagination. She had been itching to figure out just _how_ Solas had gotten into the Fade. Difficult, without her phone or computer to help her, but she could at least begin the equations necessary to understand it.

She had covered half of her first sheet when a voice from the door caused her marker to slash across the plastic.

“Lara, are you hungry?”

She used her thumb to rub away the mistake. “Are you an average mage?” she asked him, without turning around. “Are you particularly powerful? More mana than others? Better energy output?”

“I am average, I believe, though I was very well trained.”

She frowned at her equations. “Training wouldn’t have gotten you through. Getting into the Fade should have felt like… like… like swimming against the tide, but harder. Like trying to reach outer space by just jumping and hoping gravity doesn’t notice.”

“It did take _all_ of my mana…”

She waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Everyone knows the Fade is limitless… limitless…” She had been about to say the Fade was a source of unlimited energy, something that every child was taught, but that was ridiculous. Everything was limited. The universe was limited. “Everyone knows? Did I just say that? Everyone’s _wrong_.” She rolled herself to a fresh bit of plastic and began furiously redoing her calculations. She thought she heard him leave, and so she jumped _again_ when he spoke once more.

“Could I interest you in a late breakfast?” he tried again.

She made a small groaning sound. “Ugh, no. These meds make my stomach feel like it’s made of lead. The only thing I would consider eating is…” A scent from her childhood wafted in front of her nose, compelling her to close her eyes and inhale deeply. “Are those pineapple pancakes?” she asked, finally turning to look at him.  This was a mistake. He was leaning on the door frame, holding a steaming plate, his ridiculously long legs accentuated by his bizarrely tight pants, his sweater rolled up to bare his forearms. Lara swallowed hard, unsure of where her gaze should land and wondering how she looked with her greasy hair and half-dirty clothes.

He had no right to look so pleased with himself as he led her to the dining area. Lara had to settle for sitting sideways at the table, her leg sticking straight out along the side. He went back into the kitchen, preparing more pancakes as she ate the first batch.

“These are amazing,” she gushed.

He chuckled. “I got the recipe from an old friend. I’ve had a lot of practice making them.”

“Are you redecorating?” she asked, between enormous bites of pancake.

“Pardon?” he set another plate down on the table and sat across from her. She gestured to the empty hooks on the bare walls of his living space. “Ah. Yes. I am… redecorating. Which reminds me, I would like for you to make yourself at home here, but I do have one request: please do not enter my studio. I prefer my workspace undisturbed. The rest of the condo is at your disposal.”  

Lara nodded. That seemed fair enough. The Dalish weren’t particularly preoccupied with privacy, but Lara had always found ways to carve out her own quiet space away from the noise. She felt a little guilty as she wondered how much her presence was disturbing his routine. He was frowning at his phone, and he still looked very tired.

“I had thought your sister would be here by now. I’m afraid I might have to leave you here alone.”

A curious stab of jealousy jabbed at her at the idea that he was texting her sister when he had never texted Lara before. It was a ridiculous thing to feel jealous over, the two of them barely tolerated each other, and they were texting about _her_. Still, ignoring reason, she bristled.

“I think I’ll be fine on my own, but do you know what happened to my phone? It wasn’t among my things. If I needed to contact you for something…”

“I’m afraid it was not recovered from the blast.”

She set her fork down, her appetite suddenly gone. “It was in my backpack. And my wallet. I was wearing it when…” _When Meredith exploded me and buried me in a pile of Fade rubble._  

“I’m sorry. I did not see it when I found you.”

Her lip wobbled. She was not going to cry in front of him. She was enough of a mess without adding snot and tears to the mix. But her backpack had more than just her phone in it.

“You can get a new one,” he assured her, “It is only a phone.”

“No,” she sniffed, “that’s not…”

She blinked repeatedly, willing the tears to hold. She drew a controlled breath. There was just a hint of a quaver in her voice when she said, “My students’ exams. I had them with me.”

Lara was certain this elevated her to one of the worst lecturers in history, but Solas’s reaction gave her pause. His hand flew up to cover his mouth. It could not, however, hide the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He was… laughing. She sniffed again as he stifled a chuckle.

“You think it’s funny?”

Solas’s eyes threatened to tear up now from suppressed mirth. He cleared his throat in an attempt at gravity. “It is by far the best excuse for not having to grade exams that I have ever heard.” He reached out and placed his free hand over hers. “They will forgive you for passing them all.”

With the warmth of his hand, she could almost believe it. His hand was large, encompassing hers entirely. It reminded her of another time, in a tavern, a bard strumming a song behind her. _There was no right choice,_ he had said, _And it is not your way to let someone die in front of you. You won the favor of the Empire._ His hand covering hers, a Dalish ring on one of his fingers, relief from the constant buzzing.

_She deserves to die,_ Lara had said. Her hands clenched to fists. _If I had waited…_

Lara blinked the memory out of her eyes, yanking her hand away from Solas. He cleared his throat. “I should leave for work now. I had not thought to leave you here alone—”

“I’ll be fine,” she said quickly, “Don’t worry about me. You’ve already done so much.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped. “Then I will see you this evening.”

Lara nodded, waving with fake cheer as he left. She absolutely did not want to be alone with her thoughts right now, particularly when she was hallucinating memories that clearly couldn’t have happened. With no phone, no laptop, and no ability to walk, she was stuck. She started to explore the apartment, at least. Surely Solas must own a TV or _something_ that could distract her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tel'abelas: don't be sorry.
> 
> First of all, y'all are so wonderful and I love you.  
> Second, all my comments show up in the middle of the night my time, so I'm a little worried about all of your sleep habits. Go to sleep.  
> Third of all, for the record my friends, I have never left Hawke in the Fade. I have also never played with Alistair as a Gray Warden, so that's always been an easy decision. Bye, Stroud.


	20. Chapter 20

Lara woke up from a nap she didn’t know she was taking to see two women standing in front of her, and neither one was her sister.

“Sorry.” Lace had a chagrined smile and a pie in her hands. “We didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Varric gave me the code to get up here,” Hawke said, “And since you don’t have a phone…”

Lara wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. “It’s fine.” She stared at them blankly. “Are you looking for Solas?”

Hawke laughed. “No, professor, we came here to see you.”

“Ella sent me,” Lace said, “She told me to tell you that she overslept for the first time in her life—” Lara snorted. “—and her interview was rescheduled for today. She sent me to make sure you get to your first rehab appointment.”

“I was actually sent by Varric with a present,” Hawke said, digging in her bag while Lace retreated to the kitchen. “New phone. Well, old phone. His old phone. He buys every new model the moment it comes out. New sim card, though.”

Lara reluctantly took the phone, ignoring her instinct to declare she did not accept charity nor someone else’s garbage. She needed the phone, and Varric’s old one was much nicer than anything she could afford. In any event, taking money from a landlord was always acceptable to the Dalish, even if that landlord had somehow sort of become a friend.

“Being a lecturer in art history sure pays better than being a professor of archaeology,” Lace grumbled, walking back to the living room. “Although, you’d think he’d have some art on the walls.”

“Yeah, Varric said he had a nice place, but this is ridiculous,” Hawke said, throwing herself down into a plush armchair. Once settled, she dug around in her bag a little more. “Solas said you were having appetite issues, so I also brought this.”

Lara stared at the enormous bag of elfroot in Hawke’s hands as Lace burst into giggles. “I definitely got here at the right time.” 

~~

The three women sat around a mostly eaten lamb and apple pie. They hadn’t bothered with plates, just forks.

“This tastes like Ferelden,” Lara said, smiling. “Like winter in Redcliffe.”

“I didn’t know you’ve been!” Lace beamed. “My mom makes a pie like this every time I go home. Of course, hers never has a soggy bottom.”

Lara had not ever been to Ferelden and couldn’t explain why she had said that. Luckily, she didn’t have to.

“I like soggy bottoms,” Hawke sighed happily, “It’s how my mother’s always was.”

Lace burst into giggles as Lara asked, “And Fenris? Is his soggy, too?”

Hawke frowned. “Fenris doesn’t bake.”

Lara laughed so hard she thought she’d break a third rib as Lace dissolved into giggles. When she finally got ahold of herself she asked, “What brought you racing back to Val Royeaux? I thought you were happily honeymooning in Antiva.”

“Rivain, actually. But Bethany told me there had been yet another explosion, so I booked the next flight I could. Couldn’t believe it wasn’t terrorists this time, but _physicists_. I mean, really.”

Lara considered this. The only people who knew for sure there had been an explosion were mages. “Bethany’s premed, right?” Hawke nodded. “Think she’d want to heal a couple of my ribs for extra credit?”

Hawke raised an eyebrow and looked around the condo. “Don’t you already have a talented mage at your beck and call?”

Lara’s fork scraped the bottom of the pie tin. “Solas has already done so much for me. I don’t think I could ask him to do more.”

Lace shared a knowing look with Hawke. “I really don’t think you’ll have to ask him.”

“Give a little whimper, bat your eyelashes, he’ll come running.” Hawke batted her own lashes at Lara until Lace elbowed her.  “Wait! Where’s your new phone. We’ll text him and find out.”

Lara was too slow reaching for it, and Hawke held it triumphantly over her head. “Dear Solas,” she read aloud as she typed. Lara dropped her head into her hands, resigned to her fate. He probably didn’t know this number yet. She could just never tell him. “Need your magic touch. Please hurry.” Hawke turned to Lace. “Is there an emoji for batting eyes? Or should I just do a kissy face?”

Lace shook her head seriously. “You can’t send that. Here, give it to me and I’ll write a better message.”

Hawke passed the phone, and Lace cursed. Lara lifted one eye out of her hands, but she already knew what had happened. The message had sent.

“He’s… he’s writing back,” Lace groaned. Of all the places Lara thought she might die in the recent past, a fancy condo was not one of them. Lace breathed a sigh of relief and read aloud, “Hawke, leave Lara alone. I knew you’d do something like this. Varric.”

“I love that man so much,” Hawke sighed, “I guess you’ll just have to wait for Solas to get home before you can bat your eyes.”

Lara had never batted anything in her life. She probably wasn’t going to start now. “Is that how you wooed Fenris?”

At the mention of his name, Hawke smiled dreamily. “The opposite, actually. He stubs his toe and I come running to vanquish the coffee table that did it. So I know what I’m talking about.”

Lace nodded. “It’s the same with Bram. I would stab… so many more people for him.”

“Wait, have you stabbed someone before?”

Hawke jumped in before Lara got an answer to her question. Her expression turned serious. “That reminds me of the real reason I came over. I don’t know how much Varric has told you about my past, but when the explosions started in Kirkwall, I was there. I mean like, right there. A friend of mine died in them, right next to me. So if you wanted to ever talk about your explosion, or maybe specifically not talk about it, I’m here.”

The Troubles in Kirkwall had delayed Lara going to college by two years. Her family had been terrified of the cities, the unrest, the terrorists. Elves had been blamed at first, because of course they were. It had been frightening enough to be in the countryside when it happened. To actually live through those explosions… “I’m sorry.”

Hawke rubbed a finger across the bridge of her nose. “Years ago now. I just wanted to offer my ears. Can’t say I know what it’s like to be in the Fade, but it sounds like explosions pretty much work the same there.”

Lara did not particularly want to talk about or think about being exploded, but one day she might. Hawke, she felt, would probably be kind. “Thank you.”

~~

Lara wasn’t certain what to expect of physical therapy, especially because she couldn’t actually walk yet. Lace rolled her to another university building. “You’ll like this guy. He’s Fereldan, too. I actually think before he got his PT degree he was a physicist, but I also think it went… bad. Maybe not as bad as being blown up by the faculty but like… almost as bad. Nice guy, though.”

A very tall, blonde human welcomed them into his office. He had her X-rays in hand, but he tossed them aside when she rolled in. “Your chart said you had a mage friend. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those who think ‘natural’ healing is somehow superior to magic. I will need all new X-rays, though.”

Lace left her with Cullen, and Lara patiently allowed them to beam high energy radiation at her in order to visualize her fractured bones.

“Your mage friend has done a good job. Smart to stay away from your foot, too. If those bones heal wrong, you’ll have to have more surgery to break and reset them. No harm in speeding up your rib healing, though, if they are so inclined.”

Cullen led her through numerous arm strengthening exercises, explaining that the best thing she could do for her bones is strength training. Lara rarely picked up anything heavier than a laptop, but she found she kind of enjoyed the exercises. She did not enjoy the sweating that came with it. Cullen was easy to talk to, asking her about different people in the physics department, telling her embarrassing stories about the faculty. When he asked her how she sustained her injuries and she replied simply “experiment gone wrong,” he thought she was joking. He looked mortified when she bitterly insisted it was true, rubbing his neck and grimacing.

“Maker’s Breath, don’t tell me that’s what happened to Meredith?” He asked, “When the papers didn’t say I assumed…” He sighed deeply. “She was my adviser, before I quit.”

Lara’s opinion of him suddenly tanked. “Did she always want to blow up the Veil?”

“The Veil? Maker, no… we worked in optics. The most dangerous thing we had in the lab were some high-powered lasers. Are you saying _she_ did this to you?”

Lara had carefully not thought about the events leading up to the explosion. She had not thought of the explosion in terms of blame or guilt, or even of the two dead women at all. It was easier to think about anything else. Her dreams, pie, the amount of energy required for one mage to enter a rift, the arm exercise she was doing to strengthen her collarbone. She set the weight down and took a breath. “She ignored my warnings. And then…”

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I’m sure it’s all very fresh.” Cullen picked up the weight and placed it back on the rack. “Meredith was… a towering figure in my life. I respected her greatly once. But her demands for results, the pressure she put on her students… she taught me to hate the discipline I had planned to dedicate my life to. She laughed at me when I told her I was quitting to become a PT.”

“Was she reckless?” Lara asked quietly.

Cullen looked genuinely puzzled. “No. I could talk about her bad qualities for days, but she was careful. I know it’s hard to believe but… it doesn’t seem like her.”

Lara no longer felt like lifting heavy objects and putting them down again. Cullen noticed, and instead provided her with homework and exercise bands to use at home. As he wheeled her out of the gym he said, “You know, I also teach a self defense class. If you are going to be fighting demons, I could at least teach you how to throw a punch.”

Lara had never punched anyone before, but she remembered Meredith’s sneer as she called her a rat. Suddenly she had the urge to learn. “Next session,” Cullen promised.

~~

“Have you ever done this before?” Lara asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Not in a long time,” Solas admitted, his voice soft. “And not quite like this.”

Lara shifted around, trying not to feel so awkward. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

Lara considered the question before answering truthfully, “As comfortable as I’m going to be, I think.”

“I can make it hotter, if you like.”

“No, it’s hot enough.” She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the sensation of his hands on her. She even started to relax a little. Having him this close felt familiar. The scent of his skin was calming. Her thoughts started to drift…

A voice from the hall made both of them jump. “I leave you two alone for one day and this is what you are doing?”

Solas’s fingers were so tangled in her hair, Lara couldn’t sit up. “Ella?”

“Lara has asked me for help with her hair,” Solas said calmly, continuing to work the shampoo through. He turned on the water to rinse it out, so Lara did not hear what Ella said next. Whatever it was, it only elicited a chuckle from Solas.

“Where have you been all day?” Lara called from her prone position. Ella jumped up on the counter, sitting next to the sink.

“I had my interview with Montilyet. Went well. They’ll give me the job.”

Ella’s confidence was familiar. Her crossed arms, averted gaze and monotone were not. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m flying home tomorrow.”

Lara yanked her head up, splashing water on the counter. Solas tried to move the bulk of her sopping hair back over the sink. “You can’t.”

“Deshanna needs me for things. Being First comes first.”

It was a familiar refrain, one Deshanna had repeated to them for years, but Lara couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach. “I don’t want you to go. I have… I have a feeling. I can’t… I just think something bad will happen.”

Strangely, Ella shared a look with Solas before smiling at Lara. “Since when does my sister the scientist have premonitions?”

Lara had no answer. She could not even tell Ella _what_ she feared, only that she was afraid. She knew it sounded stupid, and it was embarrassing to have Solas there listening. He threw a towel around her now soaked shoulders.  

“You’ll be fine, Lara. I’m sure Solas will take good care of you. And what worse could happen than you getting blown up?”

Lara wanted to tell her it was _Ella_ she was scared for, but she knew she knew how ridiculous it sounded. Did she think the plane would crash? A passing murderer would find her? Terrorism? She knew what they would think. Poor, scared, blown up girl overreacting after her experience in the Fade. Wycome was probably safer than Val Royeaux. There were no rifts at home.

Lara couldn’t stop thinking about this non-specific anxiety as Ella combed through her hair in her bedroom. She was leaving straight from the condo in the morning, and Lara couldn’t help glaring at her suitcase. “Tell me about the math on the wall,” Ella said, gesturing to Lara’s equations. She was obviously trying to distract her.

“It’s bad math. Drugs making my brain foggy.”

“How do you know it’s bad?”

“Because if it were right, someone would have figured it out by now.”

“What, the idiots in your department?” Ella scoffed, “The ones who don’t study the Fade or the Veil but then try to punch through it? Or those lying scientists in Tevinter?”

“I’m just a graduate student. There’s no way it’s right.”

“And I’m sure no graduate student has ever discovered anything important.” Ella said, combing through Lara’s hair just a bit too hard. She was right. Superconductivity, asymptotic freedom, supercurrents, the first pulsar—all of these were discovered or developed by graduate students. And those were only the students who were actually credited for the work.

Lara frowned at her equations on the wall. If she was right, it wasn’t just a physics discovery. It was something that could change the world. But in Lara’s experience the world did not like changing. She could check her work in the morning. 

~~

Solas left the women sleeping in his condo. It was dangerous for him to sleep at the same time as Lara. Or, if not dangerous, it was, at least, _inappropriate_. She did not know the man in her dreams was actually _him._ He was not ready to tell her, so his sleep must suffer.

There was also somewhere more important for him to be.

The rift still sat open below the physics building. Leliana had hired more security to guard the building, but in a world that still refused to embrace magic, very few security measures were obstacles to him.

This rift was truly pathetic compared to the ones he had faced in the Inquisition. Energy bled out, but after the initial explosion, no demons had entered the cavern. Perhaps such a small rift would close on its own. Perhaps something or someone was guarding the other side.

His own security measures told him no one had been here since his last visit.

Whoever had conspired to get this rift was waiting for something else. Solas waited as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like many, this was a tough week for me. And my intention with this fic was always to keep it light and fluffy, so I had to work to stop the angst from seeping in. 
> 
> Also, every chapter I think to myself, this is the one where Sera shows up. But no. Next chapter for real.


	21. Chapter 21

“Fenedhis.”

Solas bolted upright. Lara’s book went flying out of her hands onto the floor as she blinked at him in surprise. She was sitting next to him, and he realized his arm had been around her shoulders.

He remembered coming into the living room with Lara, intending to keep her company for an hour or two before heading to work. She had been pretending that Ella’s departure hadn’t affected her, that a night’s sleep had quelled her fears for her sister, and she was fine. He could see her stewing, unwilling to talk about her thoughts, so he turned on an Antivan soap opera and asked her to explain the plot. He vaguely remembered her passionate criticism of the use of the “evil twin” trope, and then it was now, and he was hungry, cranky, and had the beginnings of a headache.

“Fuck,” he said, rubbing his forehead in his hand. “What time is it?”

“I think it’s about two. I called Vivienne and told her you wouldn’t be in because you had fallen ill.”

He blinked a couple times and frowned. There was only one version of her that had been good at lying, and he doubted Lara had inherited that talent this go around. “And what did Vivienne say?”

Lara reached futilely for her book on the floor, fingers splayed out helplessly. “That I needed to improve at telling falsehoods. It didn’t help that you were snoring in the background.”

Solas picked up the book for her. “Unlike Madame de Fer, I find your natural candor charming,” he said, pressing it into her hands.  

Her gaze dropped to the book, but he could see her smiling. “Sleep well?”

He rubbed his aching neck. He had never spent much time on this sofa before, and now he felt he knew why. “No. What are you reading?”

Her eyes lit up as she held the cover up for him to see. “Ella brought it for me. It’s about time and the Fade. How time passes there, or doesn’t really. Or perhaps it does, but spirits simply have no perception of it. And it postulates about whether time travel is possible, and whether it’s happened before. It’s wildly heretical—the author used the accounts of spirits as a primary source.” She smiled fondly at the cover before adding, “If only the spirits I’ve met would be so forthcoming.”

He hated to ruin her good mood, but this was as good an opportunity as any to get some answers. “In the Fade, you mentioned a wolf.”

She inhaled sharply, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the book. “Did I?”

He put his hand over hers, squeezing it gently to urge her to relax. To his surprise, she laced her fingers with his. “You said the wolf was coming. That you could sense him.”

She frowned. “I don’t remember seeing him, if he ever arrived. But… I knew he was coming. Do you know what he is? A spirit or…?”

“I have a suspicion. Do you normally feel connected to him? Now or in your dreams?”

She shook her head, looking alarmed now. “I see him in my dreams, but there’s nothing more than that.”

That was a relief.

Lara continued, “Am I in danger of possession? He hasn’t offered me anything or even spoken at all.”

More good news. “No. If I am correct about the nature of this creature, he would not seek to possess you.”

“What happens if someone who is physically in the Fade falls asleep there? Do they appear next to themselves? Could there be two of me standing there?”

“No. To those physically in the Fade, dreamers appear more like spirits.”

She cocked her head. “How could you possibly know that?”

 _Shit._ “In my studies, I have read ancient texts which describe the experiences of those who entered the Fade.”

She scooted closer to him, her knee bumping his. “Could I see them? Are there copies online somewhere? Or are they in the rare books collection?”

He could see the gears turning in her head. He could distract her from this line of inquiry, but she would remember it. Lying about a book that didn’t exist would only work for so long, and he didn’t want to be lying to her at all. He simply could not tell her the truth about his life while she was forced to live here. Her reactions to his identity had varied from attempting to murder him to a simple shrug and a kiss goodnight. Lara, he suspected, would need time and space to for such a revelation. He deflected.

“I will go through my files to see if I can find a copy. Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

She averted her gaze from him, as if she were embarrassed. “Actually I wondered if you would help me with something else?”

“You only need ask.”

“Cullen said that it would be fine if a mage were to heal my ribs…”

“Of course, Lara. Show me where.”  

Her face was inscrutable as she took his hand and guided it across her body to her ribcage. He gently palmed the bruise, and he heard a small hitch in her breath. “Sorry. It should not hurt much longer.”

“No, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

He closed his eyes and focused on the ribs. They had started to heal, and encouraging them the rest of the way would be simple. “This will feel a little strange,” he said, urging the bones to lock into place. She gasped, and then a slow sigh of relief escaped her lips. He turned to smile at her, his magic not yet finished, and she kissed him.

It was a slow kiss at first, sweet, tentative. It caught him by surprise, almost bewildered as he kissed her back. He removed his hand from her side and brought it to cup her face. At this touch, she deepened the kiss, pulling him against her. His surprise dissipated into desire, and he complied, eager to feel her in his arms again.

He felt her hands reaching for his belt, and he let his head drop back. “Lara,” he said, in what was meant to be a warning tone. The message was lost somewhere, because she responded by biting his neck, little nips leading toward his ear. He had to stop this before it went further. They could not do this now. “Wait,” he breathed, and now she froze, her sigh tickling his neck before she pulled away.

She looked confused, disappointed, and he cupped her cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb over her now swollen bottom lip. “There’s no need to rush. We have time.”

Lara sighed again. “We don’t, actually. When Ella tells my family what happened to me, they will demand I go home. So my time in Val Royeaux is almost up.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Sorry. I, um, I guess I didn’t really think. This morning when I realized I was going to have to leave, I just couldn’t stop thinking about, um… and then that healing spell was so… um…” She trailed off, her cheeks pink under her vallaslin.

“What about your dissertation?”

She laughed bitterly. “What does a Dalish need a PhD for? My keeper wants me to be a school teacher. Maybe the next generation will have better luck at university than I did. Maybe someday the Dalish _will_ have some sort of research institute, and then everyone will be clamoring for a PhD and all the magical funding the world will suddenly throw our way.”

He could hear the resentment in her voice, the pull of duty versus desire. “But you could—"

“Don’t tell me it’s a waste,” she interrupted him. “That teaching Dalish kids is somehow wasting my training, my intelligence. It is _not_ a less worthy life.”

“Lara, whatever you decide to do with your life, your intellect could never be wasted. No matter what you do, it will always be an asset to you and those around you.”

She gave him a surprised look, “Thank you.”

They sat in a stunned silence. Solas realized he still held her hand in his, and he did not want to let it go. “As for you leaving Val Royeaux, I wonder if your family would consider that your foot may take many months to fully heal, and here you have access to some of the best physical therapy in Thedas, fully paid for by the university.”

A smile dawned across her face, and he felt his heart swell inside of him. “The whole semester could be over by the time I get the cast off my foot,” she said, leaning closer to him.

“And you will require many more months of rehabilitation even after that.”

She kissed him again, fiercely this time. Solas’s defenses were weak, but Lara thankfully kept her hands above his waist. Her lips were fire blazing a trail down his neck, and he knew he would not have refused her again. She had managed to slip her hands under his shirt. He took the tip of her ear between his teeth and was rewarded with a small gasp from her.

The sound of someone clearing their throat was unexpected, and both heads turned to find Dorian pointedly avoiding looking directly at them. Solas disentangled himself from Lara and bolted off the sofa, turning his back to Dorian as he straightened out his clothes. He could hear Lara laughing from behind him.

Dorian cleared his throat again. “I was sent by Vivienne to deliver your students’ essays to you.”

“Any table is fine, Dorian.”

“And shall I report back that you are feeling much improved?”

Lara snorted, and Solas shook his head, still not turning to face the man. “Tell her whatever you want.”

“Dorian, wait!” Lara was calling to him. “I need your help with something.”

Solas turned to cock an eyebrow at her quizzically, but she was already struggling to get into her chair. Dorian helped her, and they proceeded to her room. Solas followed, once again dazed at this sudden turn in events. He watched them pore over her work from the doorway.

“Can you tell me where my math went wrong with these equations?”

“Well, you made a fundamental assumption on this one that everyone knows is…” Dorian groaned. “Everyone knows?” he muttered, “I did _not_ just say that.”

Dorian made a number of irritated noises while stroking his chin. Finally, he pulled out his phone. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Dorian had his camera trained on the equations. “Getting a photo to show to Cassandra. She’ll hate the very idea of what you’ve done here, which will make her more likely to find any mistakes.”  

Lara laughed. “I had a dream about you, you know,” she said.

Dorian scoffed. “Are we certain we aren’t in someone’s nightmare right now? Doing math with your pants down, as it were?”

Lara ignored this. “We were artists, or at least I was, and I was defending your honor. I told someone that if they didn’t leave you alone, I would shove a paintbrush so far down their throat they would shit in color.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know that you think I have honor worth defending.” Solas leaned against the wall and grinned. Sylvas always had a way with words. Dorian passed him and rolled his eyes. “And perhaps I do. I have no desire to describe to anyone what I witnessed here today, so your…” Dorian seemed unable find a word, and simply gestured at the two of them. “Remains between you.”

“Dorian, one more thing!” Lara shouted before the elevator doors closed on him, “Can you please tell my students that I lost their exams in the Fade, and so they all pass?”

Dorian looked speechless as the elevator doors closed, and Lara burst into giggles. In truth, Solas was glad for the interruption. He needed as many distractions for Lara has he could get at this moment.

“If your rehabilitation is going to convince your family to let you stay, then we’d better make a good show of it. You have daily exercises to complete. Come, vhenan, I will show you the gym.”

~~

If exercising was supposed to take Lara’s mind off of Solas, it was not working. He had changed into a hideous sleeveless shirt, and Lara couldn’t stop glancing at his arms. It did not help that he seemed aware of her attention and kept smirking at her. At least he didn’t flex.

She might have thrown something at him.

She couldn’t stop smiling. It was almost embarrassing. She was certain she had never smiled this much in her life. If anyone saw her, they would probably think she was crazy. Luckily, the small gym in the basement of Solas’s building was empty in the middle of the day, and she was free to grin at all the free weights she lifted over and over.

The morning had been torture. Once she had realized that she was soon to be dragged home by her ears, she couldn’t stop thinking about what could have been with Solas. It didn’t help that he had fallen asleep with his arm around her, his head eventually dropping to her shoulder. With the unguarded closeness of him, she could pretend she was a more forgiving person who had forgotten about the “Ellana” incident, and this was a normal morning for them. But that wouldn’t have changed the fact that he was a student in her class and faculty at the university, and she wouldn’t have crossed that boundary. Of course, technically that was all _still_ true, but if she was about to be hauled off, it didn’t matter, because there was no future for them. But if she found a way to stay, she could be with him, and it all would matter again.

The arguments felt as futile as picking up something very heavy, holding it for a second, and putting it down again.

And there he was, going through some sort of unfamiliar yoga in his awful workout clothing. And she was grinning like a dope, trying not to ogle him, trying to put the pieces of this together like a puzzle, because she was certain if she looked at this through just the right lens, the answer would emerge. She could be Dalish, and get her PhD, and do research, and date Solas, and not disappoint her family or violate her own ethics. And her foot would be magically healed, her work would win her honor and distinction, and wealth would pour down on the entire Lavellan clan.

“I want you to quit my class,” she said out loud.

Solas did not so much as flinch in the pose he held. “You know I’m not taking it for credit or a grade, but I will drop it if it makes you more comfortable. Perhaps we could work out an independent study.”  

“I’m not going to kiss a student. If you want a private study, you can take it up with Cassandra.”

“Is there anything else you want?”

“I want this cast off.”

“I believe you have an appointment tomorrow to have it removed. Anything else?”

She sighed deeply and thought once again of their first kiss. “I want a do over,” she muttered. Solas’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open as if to say something. Instead, he shook his head and began to laugh. She looked at him questioningly, but he shook his head, unable to explain his laughter, and left her to her weights.  

~~

After a long, very cold shower, Solas walked out of his bedroom to find his condo filled with people.

“Oh!” Dagna jumped when she saw him. “Dorian said you weren’t here when he came by earlier, so we decided to keep Lara company. We brought games!”

“And drinks!” Hawke cheered.

“And more drinks,” Dorian said, dropping a crate of beers on the counter while glaring at Solas. Lara already had a drink in hand and was chatting happily with Fenris and Isabela. She turned and flashed him a brilliant smile, and he shook his head.

People kept filtering into his condo. Solas nursed a beer, giving cursory greetings to the invaders. It reminded him a little of how he once allowed them all to traipse through his sanctum. Like then, he would soon be changing the codes to prevent their careless ingress into his personal space. For now, it was a welcome distraction.

Varric arrived with half a dozen pizzas and came to stand with Solas in the corner.  

“So, Lara looks pretty happy today,” he said, nudging Solas in the leg.

“Hmm.”

“ _You_ look pretty happy today, too.”

“Isn’t it custom to be happy at a party?”

Varric scoffed. “Let’s be real here—you know you’d Fade-punch everyone out the door if you could.”

“Honestly, Varric, I’m happy for the diversion.”

Varric guffawed. “You got it that bad, huh? Living together proving too much of a temptation? Need the buffer of ten other people to keep you from jumping her? I’ve written this story before, you know.” Solas rolled his eyes and watched Lara across the room.  She was laughing heartily over a something Fenris was saying. Varric shook his head.  “She must have it bad, too. Fenris tells _terrible_ stories.”

Solas did his best to encourage the party for as long as he could muster while avoiding Lara. He even sat in on some card games, allowing his guests to win until Lara began to look sleepy, at which point he systematically cleaned them out. When the last stragglers for the evening finally shuffled out, Lara was barely keeping her eyes open, and he knew he was in the clear.

~~~~

A heavy body hitting her bed caused Lara to wake up. The room was pitch black, but the voice addressing her was recognizable. “Oi, shortstack, wake up.”

 _Sera._ Her first-year roommate at university, her sister’s ex-girlfriend, the cause of the _first_ time she broke her collar bone, and the woman who never stopped reminding her that she was a full centimeter shorter than her twin. Lara looked at her phone to gauge the time. “Sera, it is four in the morning. What are you even doing in Val Royeaux.?”

Sera sat cross-legged on the bed and bounced the mattress. “Ella told me to keep an eye on you. Said you were shacked up with some weird old guy who was mysteriously loaded.”

“Please tell me you didn’t wake him up,” she groaned.

“Couldn’t. He’s not here.” Lara sat up. “You know he’s got a weird room full of old things and like seven portraits of you? At least I think they’re you. Dalish bits are all wrong, but the rest of it looks right. Rest of it could be worth a fortune, though.”

Where would Solas have gone in the middle of the night? A room full of old things? Had Sera broken into his studio?

“Help me into my chair.”

The studio was not what she expected. Instead of pristine white walls and minimalism, it was crowded, disorganized. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with brightly colored frescoes. A large artist’s desk held sketches of Hawke littered across it. Numerous framed paintings leaned against the walls, and she did see at least one that looked eerily like her, but that wasn’t what caught her eye.

“Pass me that book.”

It was old, made of leather and vellum. Lara held it delicately. She already knew the treasures that were inside of it. She wasn’t sure if she was even breathing. She opened it to the last filled page and traced the shaky handwriting under the meticulous drawing of a bird.

“Oi, elevator’s coming.”

Lara ignored Sera, who walked into the hall. She gently let the pages fall until she could read the inside of the front cover. _Property of Illeana Lavellan._ Her face was wet.

She heard Solas's voice in the hallway. “Sera?”

“How the shit do you know my name?”

“ _Fuck._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, there's like a lot going on here :X 
> 
> Also I just feel that at this point, Solas has spent too much time with Varric to not swear in common. I also like that we are opening and closing on Solas swearing. Poor, dumb, elven god or whatever. 
> 
> Also, in a perfect world, everyone would have different names than the original (like Lara, who has like 10 names now). But that would be super annoying for the reader. I like the idea that Sera is just always named Sera, though. I mean, that way her song is always valid. (Although I guess as long as it's a two-syllable name it fits. I came up with a whole version for my dog, Tali.)
> 
> Oh, also, this fic is rated teen and it's staying that way. Today's smooches are about as graphic as it's gonna get.


	22. Chapter 22

Lara sat in the studio cluttered by familiar things. She tried not to look at them. They were not _her_ things. But they were not _his_ things either. They should not be there. Solas stood in the doorway, and she tried not to look at him, either.

“This should be in a museum,” Lara said, clutching the book to her chest. “It was her life’s work. It was…” She held in a sob. Solas held out his arm, reached for her, but she flinched away from him. He stood back, silent. She couldn’t piece together her thoughts with him standing there. She had to go.

“Sera,” she choked out, “Get me out of here. We have to leave.”

Sera looked between them. “You want to pinch some of this stuff before we go?”

_“Now.”_

It was still dark when they got outside. The streets were empty. Cold air blew across Lara’s bare legs, and she realized she’d left all of her things behind. Her keys, her cell phone. She couldn’t go back up there. The cold air was easier to breathe. She felt less exposed in the dark. She directed Sera back toward the Ladybird. They could just wait for it to open in the morning. Someone would let them in.

“So… he’s a looter?” Sera asked, settling on top of one of the outdoor tables.

“What?”

“That guy. Baldy. Stole all that Dalish kit. Probably how he can afford that place. Lots of buyers for elf stuff. ‘S good you got the book at least.”

Lara looked down at the book in her arms. She hadn’t realized she’d taken it with her. “We’re not selling it.” She’d have to give it back. Or maybe give it to her clan. It was Lavellan history. It was an important scientific achievement, and it shouldn’t be hidden it away. 

“Right. Because neither of us could use the money.” Sera leaned back on the table, lying with her head in her arms. “Flush with cash, us. Like right now, if you wanted to buy me a coffee to keep me from freezing to death, you’d say…?”

“That I left my wallet with the looter.”

“They’ll get you every time.”

Sera closed her eyes, and Lara found herself beginning to doze off, too.

_“I thought you might want to travel through the eluvians, not just reorganize them.”_

_Lahlas nodded without looking at him, focused on her task. She hid her irritation as she dragged another mirror into place. “Plenty of time for exploring, love.”_

_“Then may I ask what you are trying to accomplish?”_

_She nodded, satisfied with the new configuration. A morning of physical labor generally helped clear her head. And the revelation of the eluvians required a lot of clearing. “Do you have any other fruit with you? Something smaller than a pineapple perhaps?”_

_Solas pulled an orange out his pack and handed it to her. She tossed it and caught it in her hand a few times, testing the weight. She took a deep breath, then lunged forward and launched it through a mirror. It passed through seven eluvians before emerging from the one directly behind Solas and beaming him in the back._

_Before he could ask her why, she rounded on him. “You stupid elf.”_

_He rubbed the spot where the orange hit him, eyes wide with confusion._

_“Do you think so little of me? You bring me here as if it’s a fun little secret for you?”_

_“I thought—”_

_“My people fought_ wars _over these mirrors! We bled and we died for them. And you just…” She sat down on a rock and rubbed her forehead. She felt her whole future melting around her. What she thought her life would be, what she thought it had been. It_ hurt _, even as she felt new possibilities blossom around her. “You just know where they are. And how to unlock them. Like it’s nothing.”_

_“Lahlas—”_

_“You’re an ancient.”_

_The words hung heavy between them. Lahlas could feel her heart beating in her chest, leaden and angry. And limited, unlike the man in front of her. Solas closed his eyes and nodded._

“Pardon me,” a stern voice called. Lara blinked her eyes open, unsure if she had been dreaming or hallucinating. A human face appeared before her, dark, bearded, hair tied back in a ponytail. A police officer towered over the two women. “I got a call about some suspicious activity. Can you tell me what you are doing here? It appears this bar is closed at present.”

“I live here,” Lara said without making eye contact. She silently willed Sera to behave. Now, on top of everything, she was going to be arrested forgetting her keys while Elvhen. _No,_ she thought, the image of Solas staring sadly at her coming unbidden to her mind _, not Elvhen. Just an elf. The descendants they left behind._ He _left behind._

“Then I recommend you go inside.”

“Something wrong with two women sitting outside early in the morning?” Sera spat.

The officer simply waited, arms crossed. “I forgot my keys,” Lara grumbled through clenched teeth.

He stared into her face, and Lara wondered what he was seeing. Dragged out of bed at four in the morning, sobbing not twenty minutes later, puffy eyes and tears dried on her Dalish skin on this crisp autumn morning. “Have you been drinking this evening?”

Sera hopped off the table. “Listen—”

“I was staying with a friend,” Lara interrupted, grabbing Sera’s arm, “and he—I couldn’t stay there anymore. I left in a hurry. And now I’m just waiting for the sun to come up, so I can meet with my landlord and go home.”

The officer slowly exhaled. His tone lost the sternness, becoming almost compassionate. “Pardon me for asking, madame, but did ‘your friend’ do this do you?” He gestured to her leg.

Lara shook her head. Her cheeks were now burning in rage and embarrassment. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

The officer took a card out of his wallet. “My name is Duncan. If you remember something you wish to report, or if you need somewhere safe to stay, you can call me, any time.”

“I really do live here,” Lara said quietly, taking the card. “Can you tell me which of my neighbors called the police on me?”

“Dispatch doesn’t give me that information. But I will tell them this is taken care of and no further action is required. Please do call me if you have need.”

They watched him walk away. Sera blew a raspberry.

“Your neighbors are real arseholes,” Sera said.

“Welcome to Orlais.”

Not five minutes after Duncan had left, Solas appeared holding Lara’s duffle. Lara couldn’t bear to look at him, and he simply handed the duffle to Sera before wordlessly turning to leave.

“Wait,” Lara said. She held Illeana’s book out.

“Keep it,” he said, his voice hoarse, “It’s yours.”

As he receded into the darkness, Sera gave Lara a light swat. “Why would you try to _return_ it?”

It was easier to let her believe she was upset with Solas’s collection of Dalish artifacts than explain the truth. He was an ancient elf. Twelve hours ago, she had his tongue in her mouth. She had been dreaming of his former lovers for weeks. He was in love with her. He was lying to her.

Lara pulled her keys out of her duffle and gave them to Sera. “If you want to sleep in a real bed, you can go upstairs.”

“I’m used to roughing it,” Sera said, lying back down on the table. “But when the shops open, you can buy me a coffee.”

~~

_“Illeana, did you hear what I said?”_

_She was flipping through stray pages of drawings and notes—precursors to what she would eventually immortalize in her studies of the natural world of Thedas. She hummed a noncommittal answer before finding the page she was looking for._

_“Here,” she said, thrusting it in front of him, “I found a statue of this bird in a shrine to Falon’din. Was it a real bird, or did it come from the imagination of the sculptor?”_

_No one had ever asked him about the birds of Elvhenan before. He smiled slightly at the drawing. “It was a real bird. They disappeared when the Veil went up.”_

_Illeana nodded and dipped her quill in ink. In her tiny, neat handwriting, she printed_ Extinct _. “Tell me, what color were they? What did they eat?”_

Solas sat in his living room, waiting for the sun to come up. His condo had never felt quite so empty as it did today. When the light started filtering through his windows, he busied himself with chores. First, he replaced the art on his walls. There was no use hiding it now. He stripped the bedding in Lara’s room, the guest room, and remade the bed. He took the plastic sheets with her equations off the walls and replaced the side table he had moved to clear her path. It was as if she had never been there.

The elevator warned him that someone was on their way. He stood in front of it, hands behind his back, and waited. The doors opened to reveal Cassandra.

“You know, I do possess a buzzer,” Solas snapped, “And a phone. There are ways of announcing an arrival.”

Cassandra looked taken aback. Solas was blocking her path to exit the elevator. “Sorry. I was hoping to find Lara. I need to discuss this… this _work_ Dorian showed me. I thought it easiest to come to her.”

Solas quickly picked up the crumpled plastic sheets he had dumped on the counter and handed them to Cassandra. “This is her work, but she has left. Her cast comes off today, and I expect she will have returned to her apartment over the Ladybird. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Cassandra frowned, but thought better of commenting on his inhospitable behavior. “No, thank you. I will be on my way.”

The doors shut, and Solas sent out two emails: one to his doorman to change the code to his place and to stop more visitors, and one to Vivienne to say he would not be in today. He needed to think, and if he was going to do that, he needed to sleep.

_“Does what I told you bother you?”_

_Sylvas rolled over in the bed to face him, placing a hand on his chest. “Should it? The concept of immortality is so foreign to me it might as well be meaningless. You could tell me you were from the moon or the stars and it would be the same. But I think you’re more worried about the other part.”_

_“Which is?”_

_“The part you haven’t told me yet. My clan has a legend about the Ancestor Wars. They say only one ancient survived, and he still prowls the Fade and the land in equal measure, cursing us mortals and grieving the world he destroyed.”_

_“And who is that?” Solas breathed._

_“My lover, the Dread Wolf.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two will talk it out at some point, but Lara probably has to do some angry math first or something. 
> 
> And yes, Lahlas reorganized the Crossroads specifically so she could throw something at Solas and have it hit him in the back. Illeana did have thoughts about the whole immortal ancient elf thing, she just also had some serious priorities.


	23. Chapter 23

 “I mean, who tries to arrest an elf in a wheelchair?”

“Lots of people, Sera. Cops don’t care if your legs work.” The sun had long risen, and Lara was tired of rehashing the events of the night. It did nothing to silence the repetition in her head—Solas was an ancient. Her dreams were real, and they were him, and she was seeing through the eyes of his lovers.

The Ladybird was open for weekend brunch, and Lara sat near the bar, clutching her phone and waiting for her appointment to get her cast off. Thom was working the bar, and Varric had spent the morning trying to pump Lara for more information on why she’d fled in the middle of the night.

“Did you get the guy’s name?”

Lara handed Varric the card the officer had given her, and he began chuckling. “Duncan? That guy never would have arrested you. Way too chivalrous. I’ll bet you a sandwich he comes by later just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Make it an omelet and I’ll take that bet,” Thom interjected. Varric nodded, and Thom broke into a grin. “Great, because he’s already been by. Asked me about Lara and offered me a job. Better pay than I get now.” Thom winked at Lara and passed her an orange juice.

“He _what?_ ”

As Thom and Varric haggled over a raise for Thom, Lara turned to Sera. “You can just drop me off at the doctor now. I should be able to walk back on my own or something.” She didn’t think she could stand seeing one more happy couple sit down and make eyes at each other while waiting for breakfast.

There were no lovers in the waiting room at the doctor. In fact, there was no one at all other than Lara, and she thought she might take a nap. Instead, her mind kept racing. She had to tackle this problem logically. She had to organize what she knew, what she understood, and what questions remained.

One. Her dreams were true memories. She had suspected this before, but now she had incontrovertible evidence. The women she dreamed about were real women throughout history. Most of them, if not all of them, had met Solas. Most of them had loved him.

She did not know how or why she had these dreams. She had thought the wolf was showing her history, Dalish women who had left home like her, but somehow it all connected to Solas. Did _he_ somehow cause the dreams? Was he trying to brainwash her?

She barely registered her cast being cut off of her leg. The sudden ability to flex her knee came like a breath of fresh air. Unbidden, the memory of how she felt as her ribs were mended came to her, Solas’s hand on her side. Or the time she had an arrow lodged in her arm, and it had barely hurt when he took it out. Or the first time he’d held her hand, and the constant electric buzzing in her palm had ceased for a precious few moments…

She was jarred awake by a searing pain in her foot. Braced in its cast, she had been able to ignore her foot and avoid the pain meds that muddied her thoughts. Now, the nurses checked her swelling, cleaned her sutures, took new X-rays, and each touch caused shooting pains through her leg. She searched in her bag for the abandoned meds, gritted her teeth, and took one. She tried not to whimper as her foot was stuffed into another cast before the meds could do their work. She tried to put her mind somewhere else, somewhere far from the pain.

Two. Solas was old. Really, really old. The only thing older than him in Thedas were rocks. He was _geologic._ What was he even doing here? She had been taught that the remnants of Elvhenan had all died during the Ancestor War. Clearly at least one had survived. Were there others?

Creators, she was so _stupid_. What did she even know about history?  She couldn’t even remember what started the war in the first place. And didn’t the ancients have weird magical powers that everyone else had forgotten about? She tried to remember anything Deshanna and Ella had told her about history. Why did it all have to be so _boring?_

“Lara? Are you listening? This part is important.”

Lara snapped her eyes open and nodded. The doctor explained to her that although she was being given a walking cast, she was still to keep off her foot completely for at least another week. She tried to press about the definition of ‘completely,’ but the doctor was firm. Cullen arrived with a scooter and showed her how to place her knee on it and walk around. It was better than crutches, she supposed, and infinitely better than the chair, but it did not alleviate her disappointment.

“Cullen, what do you suppose would happen if I used a flight of stairs once a day?”

“You mean other than excruciating pain? You’ve been a model patient so far, Lara. Do you really want to go through surgery all over again?”

She practiced walking down the hallway. Even if she crawled up the stairs to her apartment, she wouldn’t be able to drag the scooter behind her. Once again she was out of housing options. How incredibly _Dalish_ of her.

Three. All the women in her dreams were Dalish. Solas had a type. She was the only Dalish at the university. Could he just not help himself? Her stomach turned as she thought again about him calling her ‘Ellana.’ She could not be a stand in for a woman a thousand years dead. She did not to be one in a line of a dozen similar women.

Cullen noticed her mood and made good on his earlier promise—he taught her how to throw a punch.

She fought with the sluggishness of her body and hit the bag Cullen held up for her. It felt good. With each punch, her foot hurt a little less. Cullen praised her form, finding little to correct once she got started. It was strange how familiar this felt, even with her knee on the scooter, it felt more like her body was remembering how to fight rather than learning it.

Four. She wanted to see him again. She was angry, furious, and she was afraid. She could not extricate her own emotions from those of the memories. She _remembered_ loving him. She… loved him. Maybe. Probably. Almost definitely. And that was terrible.

~~

“What did you do?”

Solas made a mental note to fire his doorman if he could. What was his name? Fel-something? Varric stood next to his bed, hands on hips. Solas sighed deeply.

“Why do you always assume that I am the guilty party?”

“Because either you threw an injured girl out of your apartment in the middle of the night or you upset her enough that she thought camping at the bar was a better option than spending another minute with you. So which is it?”

“I did not throw her out.”

Varric shook his head. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Did she say why she left?”

“She said it was ‘cultural differences,’ which I’m pretty sure is Dalish for ‘he’s an asshole.’ Her friend, on the other hand, seems to think you are some sort of pirate targeting helpless Dalish girls.”

Solas rolled out of bed, planting his feet on the floor and his head in his hands. “When Lara wants to know the truth, she will ask. She has always been… inquisitive.”

“You know that’s a really weird thing to say about a woman you’ve known for three months, right?”

Solas nodded.

“Great. Then get up and apologize to her so I don’t have to set up an air mattress in the back room for her to sleep on. Or post bail the next time a cop threatens to arrest her for the crime of sitting outside.”

“Duncan never would have arrested her. And she’ll find me when she wants to talk.”

Varric sighed, giving up. “Have it your way. But don’t go and do anything stupid like fire your doorman. I broke in without his help.”

“Fenedhis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, because I have been sick this week. Also I'm defending my thesis on Wednesday, so that's happening. 
> 
> Solas's doorman is definitely not Felassan, but I thought it was a funny joke. If it's not, um, blame the cold I still have.
> 
> Next chapter we're getting to the part I know you really are all super into, MATHS.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I did warn you that this chapter would be science/math heavy.

Sleeping in Varric’s office was pretty terrible. The weight of her cast unbalanced the air mattress, and getting out of bed without putting any weight on her foot was surprisingly difficult. She spent a lot of time crawling on the floor. It didn’t help that she didn’t actually _want_ to fall asleep—she dreaded her dreams now. She couldn’t trust which feelings were hers and which belonged to other women, so she spent her time reading anything that would hold her interest long enough to distract her from thinking about Solas. Sera helped. Sometimes. Lara depended on her to bring her clothes and other things she needed from upstairs, and Sera tended to ignore her instructions and bring down whatever suited her fancy. But her conversation distracted her from thinking about anything serious, like elves or history or men.

On Monday, with nothing better to do, Lara made her way toward the lab. Having the scooter was a little strange—she found people stared at her less than before. As soon as their eyes registered her scooter, they pointedly avoided looking at her. Even on campus, not a single student stopped to take her picture or yell random Elvhen at her. The sudden invisibility was a little offensive, even if it was a relief.

Outside the physics building, Dorian and Bull were having a quiet yet heated discussion. Lara wasn’t planning on eavesdropping, but the stairs outside the building meant she couldn’t get to the front door. Bull eventually noticed her, pausing their argument to pick her up and deposit her at the top of the stairs. Dorian retrieved her scooter for her.

“Well,” Dorian said, an arm on her shoulder, “I’d better escort Lara inside, open doors for her, make sure she remembers where everything is.”

“ _Kadan—_ ”

Dorian had already turned to the door, waving goodbye and leaving the Iron Bull glaring at their retreating backs.

“What are you two fighting about?” she asked once they were inside.

Dorian waved his hand, as if to dismiss the memory of their quarrel. “Bull is concerned that I am continuing to work in a building that has an active Fade rift beneath it. He thinks that some sort of _magical radiation_ will turn me into a frog or a demon or something.”

Lara wondered if there _were_ some effect of Fade radiation. If anyone had thought through the original project, they would be collaborating with biologists. And chemists. The rift was completely unexplored territory that had loads of scientific potential—in addition to numerous safety concerns. “Why _isn’t_ anyone more concerned about the rift? I mean, it’s in the middle of campus. I know it’s been mostly kept a secret, but every mage felt it happen. And nobody is _that_ good at keeping a secret.”

“Curious, isn’t it? I’ve always found it peculiar so few people are interested in learning about magic at all, or the Veil, or the Fade.”

There wasn’t even a department for magical studies at the university. As far as Lara knew, no universities devoted resources toward it. It wasn’t just that people didn’t like magic, there was also a deep apathy toward it. It was one reason Lara’s work was both heretical and accepted. Few enough people cared at all.

“Wasn’t the point to try to close the rift without magic? There must have been plans written up for how to do that. Now that the rift exists, we’re just ignoring it?”

“Ah, I forget you’ve missed a week, and nobody wanted to upset our delicate theoretician while she convalesced. Meredith’s lab was mysteriously ransacked, and hard drives were removed or wiped. The only indication that the project existed is the extra security around the building and the rift, some ten stories below.”

“What security?”

“Oh? Did you miss the enormous Qunari guarding the door on our way in? It has been nice having him standing just outside all week. Speaking of… why are _you_ here? You’re obviously not well yet,” he said, gesturing at her scooter, “Shouldn’t you be over in your penthouse in your little love nest?”

Lara’s expression darkened. She’d forgotten Dorian was the only person who knew for certain some of what happened with Solas. “It’s not like that.”

“I saw it, and it was very much like that.”

“It’s not—he’s not who I thought he was. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Dorian mercifully held his tongue, and Lara could focus on other things. Science things. In the lab, Cassandra had rewritten her work on the whiteboard. Multiple handwritings had made notes here or there, but none were too damning of the actual work. The math was simple enough once she had her original premise. The problem was that anyone who didn’t witness Solas’s entrance into the Fade would never believe her. She needed more evidence.

She gestured to the board. “Do you think it’s true? What I wrote?”

Dorian gently pulled at his mustache while considering. “You would know best. You actually visited the place.”

Lara frowned. She hadn’t really been in a state to analyze anything. She only saw what she already knew. It was green, and rocky, and empty.

“You’re a mage. You must dream of the Fade. What do you think?”

“I’ve read stories about what the Fade was, what it could be. Old Tevinter histories mixed in with some others. But my own experiences… I was warned as a youth that demons would attempt to use me as a conduit into our world. Strangely, I’ve never even met one. Your explanation is good as any I’ve seen for the discrepancies. Better than most.”

Lara twiddled a pen in her hand, staring at the proof. “Do you think anyone will care?”

“That the Fade is dying?” Dorian shook his head. “Sadly, I don’t think they will.”

~~

Lara spent the week throwing herself into her work. Convincing the world of the imminent death of the Fade was going to require more than one proof. To her surprise, Cassandra was very supportive of her new direction, encouraging her to write her dissertation proposal on it. They outlined what models they would need, what evidence could be collected, how to strengthen it. Lara had months’ worth of work ahead of her, and that was only if it all went to plan. Despite everything else, she was excited. She told herself that this is what caused her to rarely leave the lab, working well into the night. That and the fact that she couldn’t enter and exit the physics building without help. If it also prevented her from risking a chance meeting with any ancient art history instructors, that was just a pleasing side benefit.

Everyone knew the Fade had limitless energy. Mages through some little-understood mechanism acted as conduits through which that energy could be expended in the world. The energy differential was what allowed magic to happen at all. The Fade _wanted_ to find a way into the world. It was hard to gauge the number of mages at any time. People were reticent to admit they had magical abilities. But the best estimates showed a slow decline since the age of Circles. Fewer mages meant fewer abominations, and everyone touted this as a good thing. But what if it had been an early sign? And if the Fade was dying, what of its inhabitants?

Lara was certain she could convince the world the Fade was limited. She was not sure she could convince anyone it was worth saving. True, it was the home of spirits and demons, the possible source of the Blight. But more than that, the Fade was the realm of dreams and imagination and emotion. It was impossible to know what the world would look like without it. She supposed she should add models of that to her work as well.

Dorian was thrilled by Lara’s return to the lab and celebrated her presence by refusing to teach another lesson to her intro class. To her surprise, the junior students seemed relieved to see her when she limped through the door. They quieted down faster when she began the lecture, and seemed to be sitting straighter in their seats. She didn’t see a single phone grabbing a picture of her on her scooter. Not fifteen minutes into her lecture on waves, however, a hand went up.

“Is it true you were in the Fade?”

The class went silent. For one moment, there was no clicking of keyboards, scratching of pencils, whispering or giggling or snores. Dozens of wide eyes waited for her answer.

“Yes.”

A dozen more hands went up as a collective gasp pulsed through the room. The incident wasn’t common knowledge. It might even have been a secret. But no one had told Lara to lie. As she looked at the students’ faces, she realized today’s lesson was not going to happen. But this was the section on waves…

“I will tell you everything that happened. But we’re going to work out the physics side of it together. First, who can tell me about Fade radiation?”

Lara spent the rest of the class working out how to nullify the energy of the Fade—in essence, the mathematical calculations behind creating a Veil. Absorption, refraction, diffraction, reflection—all ways to alter the flow of energy. They theorized non-magical methods of casting it across all of Thedas, the energy requirements needed, possible repercussions of unequal application…

By the end of the class, they had a created a decent plan for creating a Veil. Most of the technology needed to implement it even existed. Lara smiled as the students filed out. She really hadn’t given her intro class enough credit.

“Next class, we’ll determine how to destroy it,” she called after them.

She was good on her word. First, she had them calculate the repercussions of removing the Veil simultaneously across the entire continent. The stored energy would flood the world, increasing the temperature of the atmosphere, and causing anyone outside to be baked alive. Being just eight centimeters underground, or under a magical barrier, or in a well-insulated home would protect all animals and people from such a grizzly death. The cataclysm would result in a major extinction event.

Next, they modeled the explosion of the Dragon Age. Such a targeted tear in the Veil would result in a massive detonation, able to level an entire city. She had them calculate the reverberations and damage to the Veil and estimate the number of secondary rifts likely from such an explosion.

In their last class of the week, they modeled the experiment in the Deep Roads. Once again, she had them calculate the explosion that would result. This time she had them come up with ideas of how to mitigate the blast. She felt a warm bubble of pride when at least three possibilities were better than Meredith’s plan. The students were well-prepared for this lesson, and the maths only took half the class. She spent the rest of it describing her experience there, leaving out only the deaths and the blame. Her students looked awestruck, and as they filed out, one asked, “So you mean my exam is now just… in the Fade… forever? What if a demon reads it and doesn’t know there are mistakes in it? Can the Fade do physics wrong?”

Lara had no answer to that. Certainly gravity seemed wrong in the Fade. Were there microbes there? Bacteria? Did things break down? Even worse, was Justinia’s body just… there? And if Lara were to go back in, could she retrieve it and give her a proper funeral?

She tried not to think about going back through the rift. As she worked on her proposal, she knew that everything about be so much easier if she could just get a few recordings. The answers were all there, on the other side, and she had already done it once and survived…

But she couldn’t get back into the Fade without Solas. When she found herself unable to avoid thoughts of him, she went to the gym and worked on her rehab exercises. If that didn’t work, she found a punching bag. She worked herself until she was exhausted, her muscles hot, loose, drained. Then she slowly made her way back to the bar and collapsed on her air mattress, reading well into the night, until it was time to get up and do it all again. If her heart hurt the first time she went to her advanced class and didn’t see him there, she told herself it was only lack of sleep.

On Friday she left the lab so late that the campus was completely dark and empty. She had been speeding through her proposal. It was amazing what she could accomplish with an interesting question, zero sleep, and near-deranged motivation. The words seemed to flow out of her, and she was certain it was the best work she’d ever done.

It was her feet that were the problem. This late, nobody was around to help her down the stairs. She texted Sera to come get her, but it was even odds that Sera was halfway through a bottle of wine and had chucked her phone in a canal. After ten minutes of staring at the blighted steps, Lara decided to take matters into her own hands. She picked up her scooter and chucked it down the stairs.

She expected the resulting crash, but the shout as someone scampered away startled her. Dagna looked accusingly at Lara before nudging one of the wheels with her foot. “Did the scooter do something to offend you?”

Lara sighed, then covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I’m sorry, Dagna. I didn’t even see you. I am just so tired of not being able to just… walk.”

Dagna righted the scooter and hopped up the stairs. “Orlais isn’t really built for dwarves, either. They really should put a ramp here. Anyway, my arm and shoulder are yours, as long as you promise to treat me better than the scooter.”

Lara thanked her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, hopping down the first step. “Hey, if I got you a sample of Fade—rocks or something—what would you do with it?”

“What _couldn’t_ I do with it? Wait, do you have some right now? Did you bring some back with you? We can go to the lab _right now_.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about that when I was… exploded. But… I was thinking about whether I could get some in the future.”

“That. Would be. Amazing. Make sure to get a lot, in case it doesn't respond well to fire.”

“Oi!” Just as Lara made it down the final step, Sera appeared from around the corner. Lara transferred her weight to the dinged-up scooter and Sera gave Dagna a once over. Then a twice over. Her lips tugged into a smile and she nodded at Lara. “Looks like you made it out alright. Damsel in distress, yeah? Someone come to the rescue?”

“I’m Dagna.”

“Yeah, you are,” Sera said with a wink. To Lara’s horror, Dagna blushed and smiled. Lara had seen this all play out before. She wasn’t going to see Sera for a month.

She gestured hopelessly at her friend. “This is Sera. She’s in town until…”

Sera shrugged. “Whenever. You know.”

Dagna giggled. The last time Sera had waggled her eyebrows like that at a woman, Lara nearly got arrested for arson three weeks later. And with Dagna's interests... the entire campus was now at risk. Sera pulled out a flask from her bag and passed it to Dagna, who took a drag. Lara sighed and scooted down the sidewalk faster. She was not in the mood to watch love blossom around her. And as Dagna giggled again, Lara knew it was definitely blossoming and flowering and blooming. Forget the university, all of Val Royeaux should be on high alert for this romance. 

~~

As Lara suspected, Sera disappeared just after the flask was emptied. With no distractions, Lara spent even more time working on her proposal over the weekend. She had no one to fetch her clothes from her apartment, so she gave up on pretending to sleep and just stayed in the lab, emerging bleary-eyed only in the pursuit of sustenance. Monday morning found her in the same clothes as Friday, in need of a shower and exposure to sunlight, but with a completed proposal ready for approval by Cassandra.

“I have come up with a number of ways to test the energy output of the Fade. Measuring the energy from the rift would be ideal, of course, but it will require some knowledge about the size and shape of the rift that may be difficult to ascertain. By all accounts, rifts are larger inside the Fade than they are on our plane, and we will need to figure that into the calculations.”

Lara felt strangely excited about the prospect of heading back into the Deep Roads. She had a strong desire to see the rift. She couldn’t remember leaving the Fade with Solas, but she knew what it should look like, and even what it should feel like against her skin. Sometimes, when the hum of the computers was quiet in the lab, she was certain she could hear the rift down below.  

“We’ll need to ask Solas to come in, too,” Cassandra said, making a note in her book.

Lara snapped to attention. “Why?”

“Your original calculations are based on the maximum magical output of an average mage, but your argument would be stronger if we could measure Solas ourselves. I think Irving has the equipment for that in his lab. I’ll set it up.”

Lara’s stomach dropped. Of course. Of course, of course, of course. How could she be so _stupid_? She had based all of this on the idea that an average mage had been able to punch through a rift to reach the Fade. But Solas wasn’t an average mage. The magical abilities of the ancients was a completely unknown variable. In Dalish legend, they could control minds, level mountains. They were _immortal_ for fuck’s sake. Her math was fucking _useless_.

“Lara? Are you alright?”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she lied.

Cassandra pursed her lips. She tapped a pen on her desk, frowning, before asking, “Did something happen between you and Solas?”

The question hung in the air, straddling the line of propriety between a mentor and mentee. Lara couldn’t trust herself to answer. She wasn’t sure if she would start shouting or crying. She shook her head.

“We can have someone else do his measurements.”

_They’ll be false_. She only half-listened to Cassandra’s ideas and plans for her work. It was likely all a dead end.

Lara wasn’t completely certain how she made it through the rest of the day. Her emotions, which she had been ignoring because they were confusing, had settled on rage. Somehow, she taught a class. Somehow, she did her exercises at the gym. Somehow, she convinced herself not to delete her entire proposal.

It wasn’t enough that Solas had ruined her sleep, her daydreams, her grasp of history and her hopes of maybe falling in love with someone not wildly inappropriate for her. His lies had now ruined her _science_. He had fucked with her _math_ and she could _not_ let that pass.

_You 5:01pm_

_Where are you?_

_Solas 5:02pm_

_At home. New code is 103118._

She grabbed her scooter, walked the few blocks to his house, pushed past his hapless doorman, and hobbled into his condo. He was waiting for her.

“You fucking liar,” she snarled.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mass extinction event that Lara describes is actually very similar to how the dinosaurs died. I'm pretty sure the sudden flow of energy would cause some major temperature spikes, and Solas did mention the world burning and all that. Anyway, if you want to learn about the end of the dinosaurs, Radiolab has a pretty good telling of it in their show Apocalyptica. Highly recommend. 
> 
> In other news, I RECEIVED MY DOCTORATE THIS WEEK! You may now call me Dr. Viscaria. =D =D =D
> 
> Also, note-- Lara's sleep-deprived proposal was not the best work she'd ever done. Girl is tired and can't proofread. Cassandra lets it slide.


	25. Chapter 25

Solas was having an uneventful week. It was frustrating. In addition to hearing nothing from Lara, he continued to find no new information about the rift. He spent his nights in the Deep Roads, pondering the problem. It had been a long time since he had used his skills to sneak around. Even longer since he had schemes regarding the Veil. If he wanted to determine the origin of this project, he would have to provoke a response.

Staring at the rift, he knew one method certain to achieve this: He needed to go back in.

It was a terrible idea. But, as Lara no doubt knew by now, he’d had worse.

He had assumed Lara’s curiosity would get the better of her, and she would seek him out after only a couple of days. Her silence caused him to wonder if perhaps she’d remembered enough, and he would not be forgiven this time. It was not like her to run from a fight, however. He would wait.

The possibility that she could remember all of it, each lifetime with him and those without, thrilled and terrified him. To be able to talk to her of the things they had done together, to share their memories, it was more than he had dared wish for. It was more than he deserved.

“You fucking liar,” Lara snarled at him, stepping into his home.

This was not the ideal version of this conversation that Solas had imagined, but he hadn’t excluded it from the realm of possibilities. He had hoped with over a week to cool off and reflect on the situation, Lara would come up with something… calmer.  “Ah,” was all he could muster in reply. With at least six lifetimes of memories at her disposal, exactly which lie, half-truth, or omission was upsetting her would be impossible to guess.

“Don’t ‘ah’ me. You sound like… like… like someone who has told so many lies he doesn’t know which one to apologize for.”

She had him there. He took a risk. “The dreams you’ve been having—”

“I’m not talking about that, although we _are_ going to talk about that. I’m talking about the lie you told me here, in this condo.”

Solas stood, hands at his sides, eyes narrowed in thought. “I’m sorry, Lara. I don’t—"

“You told me that you were an average mage. I based my entire hypothesis on the actions of an average mage. The whole premise is now trash, and I don’t know how I can possibly explain this to Cassandra.”

“Lara, I _am—”_

“Everyone knows that when the ancients came back, they were more powerful than mortal mages. They killed people with a single look, they leveled the earth, they used _mind_ -control—” Lara gave him an anguished look, and Solas felt his stomach drop. Did she think that he would, that he _could—_ he had to disabuse her of this line of thought. “They were not average,” she finished.

He stepped forward, toward her, but she recoiled. He took a breath. “At present, I _am_ a perfectly average mage. Well-trained, more knowledgeable, but average. Your sister is probably better able to level the earth than I am, and as for mind-control, the idea is abhorrent. Even if I had the ability, which I do not, I would never use it.”

Lara crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at the floor. The fury that had propelled her here seemed to have dwindled, and now she just looked tired. “Cassandra wants to test your magical abilities to strengthen our paper.”

“I would be happy to submit to testing to further your research.”

She nodded slowly, slightly swaying on her feet.

“Would you like to sit down?”

“No.”

Lara’s eye caught a painting on the wall, and she walked toward it. One of Sylvas’s—A party in a garden. “I can’t draw for the life of me,” she said, reaching out to brush her fingertips over the bumpy paint. “Why can I remember making this?” She pulled her hand back, smoothing it over her forehead as if to wipe away sweat. “It was so humid. Everything was sticky, and the paint wouldn’t dry. You lit a fire, and it burnt the dress in the corner. You said brown was in season.”

Solas remembered the summer well. “You threw brown paint at me and called it fashion.” They had thought the oppressive heat would be more tolerable in the countryside. Their age difference was becoming more apparent with each season, so they rented a secluded and downtrodden shack. Every morning Sylvas would walk to the river to pour cold water over her head. She said it stimulated the mind better than tea or coffee. She spent the afternoons complaining about her thick, wet hair, and at night he suffered through sharing a damp pillow. It was miserable, and wonderful, and in all of her paintings from the summer, the flowers looked like they were melting into the people, and she made the heat lovely. Tracking this one down had taken a lot of work.

 Lara was looking at him now, fear, confusion on her face. “What did you do to me?”

“Please, Lara, sit down, and I’ll answer any questions I can.” He moved forward to steady her, fearing she would shove him away, that she would run again. She didn’t. She allowed him to take her arm and lead her to the sofa. She slumped into the cushions and ran her hand through her hair.

“What did you do to me?” she asked again.

Solas sat on the far end of the sofa from her, back straight. “Nothing. I do not know why you are having these memories now. It was not my doing, and I am sorry. It must be very disconcerting.”

Lara rubbed her forehead. “I can’t trust my own mind. How could I possibly trust you?”

 “I do not know.”   

They sat in silence for so long that Solas thought she might have fallen asleep. Eventually she stirred.

“How old are you?”

“In the time before the Veil, we did not keep track of the years as mortals do. In truth, I have no idea. When Arlathan fell, I was not a young man, but not considered an elder.”

“That was five thousand years ago.”

“I was asleep for most of that time.”

Lara hadn’t looked at him since sitting down. Her eyes drifted between her hands in her lap, the floor, his bookshelf. He knew she wasn’t really seeing any of them. Now she almost looked at him, her gaze falling to the sofa just short of where he was sitting.

“Those women in my dreams—they were all Dalish. Do you just have a thing for them? Is it just a specific type with you?”

It took Solas a moment to understand the question, and when he did, he laughed. Lara’s eyes snapped forward again as her face darkened. “I apologize for laughing, but the answer is yes. Lara, they weren’t just all different Dalish women—they were all you. Those memories are _your_ memories of your previous lives.”

Lara closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. She sighed, rolling her head toward one shoulder, then the other. Finally, she opened her eyes and said, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Solas had no response to that.

“Are you telling me that I’m… that I _was_ an impressionist painter? And a bird fanatic? And whatever Lahlas was?”

“She was an excellent marksman, among other things.”

“And the _Inquisitor?_ ”

“Yes.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she repeated.

“That was your opinion at the time as well, as I remember.”

Lara stared at him now, irritation and incredulity across her face, and he wondered if she was remembering that day in the courtyard. Cassandra dragged her up the stairs, Leliana thrust the sword into her hand. Ellana had looked outraged, baffled, and then her eyes caught his from where he stood on the battlements. Just a moment of eye contact, and she fell into grim resignation.  

“How would that even work?” Lara asked, “Like genetically? Am I identical? Are different women through time giving birth to a clone baby?”

“Physically, you look the same, but also different. I suppose it’s hard to say how I recognize you, but I do.” Solas frowned. He had never thought to put any of this into words. He knew it sounded ridiculous. “You had a dream about Dorian. Do you remember?”

Lara gave a tiny nod.

“He didn’t look exactly like the Dorian now, but you knew him. You knew he was the same man, your friend.”

This seemed to mollify her for the moment. Solas had had similar concerns the first time he met one of her reincarnations. He _knew_ her. He _knew_ it was Ellana, as impossible as that seemed, and the fact that she immediately tried to kill him only solidified his certainty.  Lara hadn’t mentioned remembering anything of Rajasha yet, and Solas was hoping they could make it through the evening without dragging out that ancient argument. There were times when the situation seemed ridiculous, that he had only found a woman with a similar face and projected their past onto her. But something inside of him just knew.

Lara was staring intensely at her lap again. “So… what, I always fall in love with you? Do we always…?”

“No, not every time. I did not meet your last iteration until she was in her eighties. We did not have a romantic relationship.”

Lara narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?” she asked flatly, “Shora was too old for you?  The five-thousand-year-old man has a problem with wrinkles? And I was only seventy-four.”

Solas chuckled. “Apologies. Shora was wonderful. Beautiful. But as a widow who assumed I was half her age, she was not interested in anything more than friendship, which I gladly gave.”

“My children thought you were out to steal my money, which I didn’t even have.” Lara’s face fell as she processed what she just said. She took a shuddering breath. “Mythal’s mercy, I have children.”

“Breathe, Lara,” he said, reaching a hand to her trembling shoulder. He did not tell her that her children had long since passed, or that her grandchildren had grandchildren.  

She shook her head. “I can’t think about that. It’s too… I can’t think about that. It’s ridiculous.” She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Her hands twisted her in her lap and then settled. “I don’t want to think about potential past lives or what any of that even means. I’d rather ask about you.”

Solas nodded, readying himself for an uncomfortable conversation. He had promised himself he would tell her everything, truthfully and bluntly.

“Why does an ancient spend his time teaching university students?”

An easy question. He smiled. “I like university students,” he said, “It’s a time when the minds of young adults are very open to new ideas and they are prone to developing a great passion for their learning. I enjoy the conversations I have. I imagine that is not too different from why you enjoy teaching.”

Lara nodded, her next question forming on her lips. “I have to ask—I have to know—you lived in the world before the Veil. What was it like? How did it work?” She paused, her eyes going very far away. “I think I’ve asked you this before.”

“You have, a long time ago, but I would be happy to tell you again.”

~~

Lara did not remember falling asleep. She did not remember when her questions trailed off or whether she dreamed up the unlikelier answers. She certainly did not remember Solas wrapping his arm around her, or how her head ended up tucked under his chin. How her own traitorous hand had ended up splayed across his chest was a mystery.

She would never forget, however, waking up to a polite clearing of the throat and seeing four Dalish faces in front of her. “Mamae? Papae? Keeper?”

Ella was covering her mouth with her hand, and Lara couldn’t tell if she was horrified or trying not to laugh.

“What are you all doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo props to anyone who catches the mass effect reference in this chapter =) but also like don't feel bad if you miss it because it's a weak reference.


	26. Chapter 26

“What the _fuck_ , Ella?” Lara demanded the moment she was certain her parents wouldn’t hear. They were walking ahead of her, her father somehow already having obtained an Orlesian cap and looking ridiculous in it. Deshanna moved at a sharp clip, as though if she walked fast enough, the Orlesian of it all wouldn’t rub off on her. Lara couldn’t hope to keep up with her scooter, which gave the sisters sufficient cover to have a whispered argument.

“Oh, you _can’t_ blame this one on me. I tried to call you like ten times before we arrived. Do you _ever_ look at your phone?”

Lara had not. She pulled it out now and looked at the dozens of missed calls and messages. “How did you even know where I was?”

“Varric told us. I came looking for you at your apartment. It was Deshanna’s idea to go straight to his condo. What was I supposed to say? Didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to talk to him anymore?”

Lara nodded along while tapping out a text to Solas. She was trying to push out the memory of her parents' faces as she disentangled herself from Solas this morning. Shock, disappointment, amusement, shame. And Deshanna had been pure, contained fury. 

Someone had told Varric where she was, and it wasn't Lara. 

_You. 9:34am._

_This is your fault._

She jammed the phone back in her pocket and ignored the last question. “Ella this is bad. It’s really bad. Why are you even here?”

“We are here, da’len, because two of our clan are seeking to live here, and one was mysteriously injured,” Deshanna said over her shoulder, “We are here to make sure your life in Orlais is healthy, respectable, and taking you down the _right_ path.”

“Of course, Keeper,” Lara said, staring at the ground.

“I told her you were in a car accident,” Ella whispered, “She did not believe me.”

“Where are we going?” 

“Didn’t you read the itinerary I sent? Do you ever check your email? Blood of the creators did you even know we were coming to Orlais at all?”

Lara shook her head.

“You are such a grandmother.”

She coughed and stopped in the street as she remembered that she _was_ a grandmother. “Why would you say that?”

Ella put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s an expression, da’len.  Anyway, we have a meeting with Leliana, then with Josephine Montilyet, and then Papae wanted to do some sight-seeing. I take it, since you can’t be bothered to check your blighted email, that you did not invite your most respectable friends to dinner in a last-ditch effort to convince our family that living here is acceptable? An effort that has now been completely torched because of your _adorable_ snuggling with an elderly professor?”

“Fuck me,” Lara muttered under her breath.

“Did he?”

“No!” The sound came out much louder and shriller than Lara intended, and everyone turned to look at her again. She brought her voice back down to a whisper, “And you know none of my friends are respectable!”

Ella laughed.

“Keeper!” Lara called ahead, “I have an appointment with my physiotherapist today. And I’m teaching a class at one.”

“Very well. We shall all attend both. And forget about inviting your friends to dinner. I already invited the man we met this morning. I think it would behoove us all to get to know him a little better.”

As if to confirm that this nightmare was real, Lara’s phone buzzed in her hand, she saw Solas’s response.

_Apologies. I will see you at dinner._

“And Lara,” Deshanna called over her shoulder, “You really have spent too much time with the shemlen if you think I can’t hear you back there.”

~~

Leliana held up well under scrutiny, though Ella’s car crash story was soon debunked. Deshanna asked most of the questions, while Lara’s mother, Eliara, sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Lara was surprised to learn that Leliana had spoken to Deshanna before Lara had even started at the university.  With numerous assurances of Lara’s safety at the university, Deshanna left satisfied, and Leliana bid them an unruffled farewell.

Cullen was ruffled. Deshanna demanded to see Lara’s X-rays, something he could not do without her express permission. Even after she gave it with a sigh, he seemed reluctant to pass them over, and Deshanna snapped them out of his hands with a scolding. Her entire family stared at her broken bones with varying levels of comprehension. Eliara, a nurse, simply frowned, something she had spent most of the morning doing. Another strike against Lara’s life here. Even worse, she still wasn’t allowed to walk. She was starting to feel Cullen was dangling walking in front of her like a carrot, and she’d be stuck scooting around for months.

The only positive part of the appointment was hitting the punching bag, even if it was strange with four sets of Dalish eyes watching her. Ella demanded that she be taught next. Deshanna clucked, Eliara frowned, and her father offered to hold the bag.

The shock of her family arriving pushed most of the previous night out of her head. It was impossible to worry about her six other lives when the one in front of her was unraveling. She was most nervous about her class in the afternoon. She skipped the trip to meet Montilyet to change and prepare herself, which mostly involved giving herself a pep talk in the lab.

“This will be fine. They won’t understand a word you are saying, so it doesn’t matter how bad you fuck up.”

Her muttered phrase caused Dorian to turn from his desk. “That is the bleakest pep talk I have ever heard. I think I will be using it from now on.”

Looking at his face, Lara couldn’t help but burst into nervous giggles with him just as her family arrived at the lab. Her mother took in her laughter, and her frown only deepened.

At this point in the semester, her students knew the routine. They were confident enough to ask questions and volunteer answers. Lara knew the material as well as any expert in the field, and who to call on if the discussion lagged. Still, as her students filed in, she was more nervous for this class than she was her very first day teaching.

When she took her place at the front of the room, she felt a weird sense of sadness when she realized it was the highest number of Dalish faces she had ever seen in a college classroom. She praised all the gods that Solas didn’t show up.

Her father fell asleep almost instantly. Ella spent most of the class trying to get him to stop snoring. Deshanna looked pleased with the class, which almost worried Lara more than her usual disapproval of Lara’s choices. But it was her mother’s rapt frown that bothered her the most. She didn’t know anyone could look so concerned for so long. Surely her brow muscles must be sore by now. It was a relief when a student went up to the board to present so that Lara didn’t have to face her any longer. Given the nervous performance of a usually confident student, Lara was certain her mother’s expression hadn’t softened.

Of course, the end of her class simply meant she was closer to dinner.

 

~~

Lara watched as her dad tried to engage Solas in conversation. She knew he was doing them a kindness, trying to protect Solas from the sharpness of Deshanna, but watching her two worlds, her two selves, her two lives collide was causing her blood to pound through her head. It seemed impossible that she was both a loyal member of clan Lavellan, a daughter, a sister, and a competent graduate student with friends and research and a confusing relationship with an ancient art history instructor. Even worse was the voice in her head reminding her that she had been so many more things in so many more lives.

Her father’s friendly inquiries into Solas’s life were bordering on interrogation by the time their food arrived. Lara hesitated to eat, so concerned to hear what her father might be saying to him.

“Is your art displayed anywhere I might see it? We could make a detour to see it while we are here.”

“Unfortunately, my favorite pieces were those commissioned for private salons. About a decade ago, traditional elvhen murals were in vogue for the upper crust of Orlais.”

“I’m sure the People would value such work more,” Deshanna chimed in.  

“I did create a mural many years ago in one of the schools of the alienage, but the government tore down the school not long after. It was a pity.”

Ella smiled sweetly at him. “You could make one for our school, if you ever come to the Free Marches.”

Solas smiled at Lara. “Perhaps the most famous members of clan Lavellan?”

Lara had no doubt he was talking about the Inquisitor. Visions of a round, painted room danced through her head, but Deshanna’s next words snapped her back to the present.

“I’m sure Lara will appreciate the reminder of her time here when she takes a teaching position next year. We are looking forward to having one of our best and brightest and most _educated_ come home and serve her community.”

Deshanna had never been subtle. Lara’s hands twisted in her lap as she hoped Solas would not rise to the bait.

“Whatever path Lara chooses for herself, I am certain her brilliance will shine through.”

“There is only one path for her, da’len. Serving the indolent elite of Val Royeaux may be acceptable for _some,_ but it could not provide a meaningful and sustaining life for one of the People. These dalliances in the city will only remind her of her true home.”

Lara closed her eyes. An outburst would result in ultimatums and arguments. She took a bite of her food to occupy her mouth and prevent herself from saying something regrettable.

“Of course, if Lara thinks that teaching _our_ youth is not good enough for her, perhaps she should have stayed on the original course we set out for her.”

Her stomach dropped. She knew what was coming next. She’d heard it too many times. Ella grabbed her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. “You will notice both sisters wear the vallaslin of Mythal. Are you familiar with our gods and traditions?”

“A little.” Only a slight tensing of the jaw betrayed his irritation.

“Both sisters were meant to become protectors of the clan. Lara promised to go to law school after receiving her BA. It was the reason we sent them. Imagine our confusion when only Ella enrolled.”

Lara shot up from the table. “Excuse me.” She wasn’t sure what her plan was, but she had to get out of here. She forgot the scooter, walking on her foot for the first time, not caring about the sharp pain shooting up her leg. She stumbled out of the restaurant. She needed air.

The cold autumn wind that struck her face instantly opened her lungs so she could breathe again. She hobbled away from the door to the restaurant and leaned her head against the cool brick of the wall. She did not need to be reminded of her failure to secure a scholarship or what she could have been for her clan. They did not need a physicist or an academic.

The door swung open and she closed her eyes, wondering if she was about to be comforted or scolded. She decided she wasn’t in the mood for either option.

“You shouldn’t be walking on that foot,” her mother said, thrusting her scooter at her. It might have been the first words Eliara had said to her all day. Lara accepted the scooter and gingerly set her knee on it. She couldn’t bear to bring her eyes up to look at her mother.

“Can’t your mage speed this healing along for you?”

“He already did all my other bones. And the doctors said it’s better if he doesn’t.”

Her mother huffed. “Shem doctors and their fear of magic. I’m surprised they didn’t call you an abomination and put you down.”

“They tried.”

Eliara laughed bitterly. “Deshanna is fighting a losing battle. Our children go out to find their fortunes among the humans, and the unlucky and untalented come home to live a long, bitter life. The brightest stars either never come back, or are beaten down until they are as dull as all the rest.”

Lara didn’t know what to say. She had never planned on leaving forever. She had never planned on breaking her promises to the clan. She just followed her interests and found herself somewhere new and wasn’t sure she knew how to get back.

“I’ve never understood your fascination with physics. Can’t say I’ve ever cared much about the Fade, or maths. And your father is hopeless with numbers, so I know you didn’t get it from him. But watching you in front of those students today… I have never been more proud of you.”

Lara stood in stunned silence. As the words sank in, she felt tears welling up behind her eyes and willed them not to fall. The last thing she needed Deshanna or Solas seeing was her with puffy red eyes.

“I told Deshanna to stuff it. She’s has had her claws in Ella since she was a child. I couldn’t convince her to pick someone else. But you are free. If you want to be a physicist, just promise me no more explosions. I will not let Deshanna spoil what you have made here for yourself.”

Lara raised her head and looked at her mother for the first time. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Mamae—”

Eliara smoothed Lara’s hair back. “At least your… _friend_ … is an elf.”

Lara almost smiled.

“Just do one favor for me,” she said taking a step back. Lara was already unsure she could promise no more explosions, but she swallowed and nodded her head.

“Can you please get your father to take off that ridiculous hat? You are the only person he listens to.”

Lara finally laughed, and her mother smiled triumphantly. “You should have seen the hat Solas wore when we…” she faltered as she realized she had never actually been to Halamshiral. “Last week. It was awful. I tried to get Dorian to burn it.”

They walked back into the restaurant, Lara trying not to feel embarrassed about storming out earlier.

“Can’t blame him for trying to cover up that bald head.”

“Mamae!”

Lara snatched the hat off her father’s head and placed it on her own, grinning at her mother. She soon realized Solas was missing from the table. Everyone looked uncomfortable.

“He left,” Ella said.

Lara turned to her mother. “We didn’t see him outside.”

“He was staring at a human woman,” Deshanna said, “and he apologized and left.”

Lara understood the implication but dismissed it. “Which woman?”

“She has also left.”

The Lara that had lived only 26 years felt certain he left because he had seen her through the eyes of her family. A flawed, selfish child who couldn’t even put her one good quality, her brain, to the correct use. A version of herself she had been successfully ignoring since moving to Val Royeaux.

But the Lara who had hundreds of years of experience, who knew Solas almost as well as she knew herself, knew this wasn’t true. She quelled the doubt inside of her, looked at Deshanna, and shrugged. “It must have been important.”

With her mother’s support, suddenly Deshanna seemed small. Without a stranger at the table, shaming Lara seemed to have lost its appeal, and they spent the rest of dinner catching her up on news from home. 

As they left the restaurant, Lara hissed to her sister, "You could stand up for me, you know." 

"I did. After you left. But really the best thing for me to do is just wait for Deshanna to die and promise to be a better Keeper than she is. Or at least less of an asshole." 

"She can definitely hear you," Lara whispered. 

"I'm counting on it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a late Thanksgiving chapter, if I'm being honest. I'm not sure why I made Deshanna such a pill, but it could be influenced by the amount of time I had to spend with my stepmother this holiday. 
> 
> Did Eliara name both of her daughters after herself? Yes, yes she did.
> 
> Also Lara's family totally has her back, but I'm pretty sure that arguing with the Keeper in public is just not done. Also they SUPER don't care if Solas has a low opinion of them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there is an uncharacteristic amount of violence in this chapter compared to the rest of the fic. Next chapter will be fluffier, I promise.

The dark alley was a welcome relief from the Lavellan dinner. In a thousand years, Solas had yet to be liked by Lara’s family. Strange to have Ella be the least hostile to him in the room. It appeared she was starting to like him. 

He tapped out an apology to Lara while following his quarry.

_You. 8:51pm_

_Apologies. A matter of some urgency came up. And if I were not certain my presence at dinner was a source of conflict among your family, I would not have left. Please give your mother my regards._

This was a trap, but he was ready to spring it. He heard a door slam shut ahead, and he quickened his pace. As he suspected, he knew the building and its owner. The door was left unlocked, anticipating him. He stepped over the threshold into an ornately decorated foyer. A fire crackled down the hall, and he followed the flickering light.

The dark-haired woman stood next to the fireplace and smiled as she greeted him. “Andaran atish'an, Fen’Harel.”

For a thousand years he had successfully avoided crossing paths with Morrigan. Somehow always reborn, somehow always remembering who she was. She hoarded wealth for future selves and used it to buy privacy and security. She was one of the wealthiest women in Orlais, and her name was never even whispered. She had spent the last thousand years in quiet comfort, and until now she had not been a concern.

Her appearance today confirmed his suspicions. She orchestrated the Deep Roads experiment. Now he could find out why.

“You have my attention.”

She smiled. “I should feel honored. I know how hard it can be for you to turn your head from your little pet.”

“And now you have lost it.” He turned for the door.

“Wait!”

Solas paused at the threshold. He knew she needed him for something. He held the power in this room.

Morrigan’s composure was rattled, her voice strained. “She’s back.”

The blood pulsed in his head, but he did not let it show. “Who?”

“You know who.”

He turned and reentered the room. He scanned Morrigan up and down. If it was a lie, he would kill her for it. “She’s dead.”

“ _You_ were dead, once.”

“Not the way she is.”

“And how long did it take you to stop being dead? Twenty years? Thirty? She’s had a thousand.”

He had grown complacent. He had grown weak. He had not noticed… he had sensed nothing.

Morrigan crossed the room. “My mother is alive, and she is haunting me. Hunting me. She wants me back.”

There were other ways to have gotten his attention than tearing open the Veil. Was she testing him? Or did she need something from the other side?

“She needs a host,” Morrigan continued, “And I need protection. There is no one left who knows the threat she poses, and you—”

He knew what she needed, and it filled him with fury. He grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her into the wall. “People died. Lara almost died.”

She scoffed. “Give her twenty years. She’ll be back.”

A spell welled up in Solas’s hand, though he couldn’t say which.

“If you kill me, who do you think she’ll go after next? Your precious pet couldn’t say no to her before. Whose vallaslin is she wearing these days?”

Solas released her, cursing himself for his show of anger. Morrigan was correct. Mythal could find any host, but Morrigan was a beacon to her, a temptation she could not resist. Deprive her of that, and Val Royeaux was littered with other targets.

That Mythal had not made herself known to him, though, was promising.  

He went straight to the rift. His wards were broken, telling him what he already knew. Someone had been here. The magical residue left a taste on his tongue, but he could not be certain what was accomplished. Did they put something through the Veil, to the other side? Or did they coax something out?

Morrigan was correct. He needed to go back into the Fade. And he was too weak to do it alone.

~~

Rajasha jerked on the rope binding the prisoner’s hands, and he stumbled behind her.

“Keep up.”  

“Is that necessary?” her companion asked. “He doesn’t _look_ very dangerous.”

Rajasha yanked again. “I’ve seen that face before,” she snapped. “He’s a mage, and a good one, and he can’t be trusted.”

There was still blood on his shirt where her arrow had pierced his arm. Magebane coated on every arrow and in every bit of food and water offered him thereafter. She knew he was feeling it.

“If he’s that dangerous, shouldn’t we just kill him?”

Rajasha turned to glare at prisoner. “We still might.”

He tilted his head at her. “Ma nuvenin.”

She spat on the ground in front of him. He was acting weak, docile, but she could see the muscles beneath his simple spun clothes, could sense his readiness. She made a note to increase the magebane in his food.

Ancients traveled in packs, but they found this one alone. His brethren were nearby, and she would draw them out.

They made camp. The prisoner’s wound was bleeding again, or possibly just oozing.

“Take off your shirt.”

He looked at her, then held his bound hands up. She sighed and pulled the shirt over his head herself, leaving it wrapped around his wrists. The wound looked bad, infected already. She wanted him weak, not dead. But wasting precious supplies on an ancient pained her sensibilities.  

He was watching her decide. “Ellana—”

“That last time you called me that, I killed you.” She poked two fingers into his chest, over his heart. “I shot you with an arrow, right here.” Her fingers trailed over the unblemished bare skin. “There isn’t even a scar. Shall I report to my people that in addition to being immortal, our ancestors don’t need hearts?”

The prisoner closed his eyes. He took slow, deep breaths. “Where did it happen?”

“You don’t remember?”

“My own death? No.”

She left the wound. If he could come back from the dead, he could survive an infection. If needed, he could lose the arm.

“Get some sleep, ancestor. I’ll probably kill you in the morning.”

The moment she turned from him an arrow whizzed past her ear. It was enough to guess the location of her attacker. Her bow was up in an instant, an arrow knocked, and she fired into the brush. She heard a thud, a hit, but not likely a lethal one. Her companion shouted, and a clang of metal indicated he had engaged with another. She shoved her prisoner to the ground as another arrow tore through the air. It missed her by a wide margin, and she shot again, this time certain it would bring down the enemy.

She felt a wash of magic tingling over her skin, a weak barrier that blocked a dagger thrown for her neck. It bounced off harmlessly, and she threw it back at the owner. He staggered, and she lunged, plunging a blade into him.

The last assailant leapt at her, pushing her to the ground, but her dagger was already up and his own momentum finished the job. She rolled his dying body off herself and found her companion in a quiet, bloody heap. The attack was quick, quiet. Five minutes and four dead bodies. She rounded on the prisoner.

The adrenaline was pumping in her skull and she felt an uncontrolled rage. Another one of her people dead by the hands of their own ancestors. She knocked him on his back, a knee on his chest and a knife at his throat.

“Your people killed Borean,” she growled.

He said nothing, his eyes closed. Even with his hands bound and pinned, he still had magic. Borean was no mage—the barrier that saved him from the throwing knife was his. He could still fight back. But he didn’t.

She drew her blade away and stood up. He opened his eyes to watch her, but otherwise did not move. An arrow jutted out of his thigh, buried in the meat of his muscles. _It was about time the ancestors went back to killing each other,_ she thought bitterly. She built up the still-lit campfire, creating a pyre and increasing the heat, and shoved her blade in it. While she worked, she considered leaving the ancestor here, bound, wounded, feverish. The past should stay dead. She dumped the bodies of the other ancients on the pyre. 

She had no tree to honor Borean, not even a shovel to bury him properly. They were too far from the clan for her to bring him home for his final goodbyes. She washed the blood off him, humming a song to send him on a peaceful journey. She removed his necklace to bring home to his parents.

The prisoner had not moved.  He made no attempt to heal himself. The arrow still protruded from his leg. 

“Why did you cast a barrier on me?”

He said nothing.

He had saved her life, and she was no executioner. She would not leave him to die this time. 

This did not mean she made it easy on him. She tore his breeches, exposing the wound before yanking the arrow out of him, tearing his flesh. He groaned and writhed, but the worst was yet to come. She pressed the flat of her glowing orange blade to the gash. He let out an anguished cry as his skin seared.

“Every time your leg aches, you can think of what your people did to their own descendants,” she hissed.  

She cut the rope binding his hands and left him there, curled up on the ground. She left Borean's pack with his rations. It was all the mercy she had. 

~~

Lara woke up gasping in an unfamiliar bed. She thrashed, and her sister reached out and pulled her down, groaning for her to stop.

She was in a hotel room. She was sharing a bed with her sister. She was not covered in blood and soot.

“Ella,” she gasped.

“Just go back to sleep.”

There was little chance of that happening. She could still _smell_ the burning flesh in the air. She could still see Solas’s face as she left him there.

She sat up in the bed. “Do you remember the nightmares you used to have? The ones where you were stabbed?”

Ella opened her eyes at this. There was no way she could have forgotten. The first time she had the dream, she nearly burned their room down, dramatically announcing to the clan that she was a mage. They’d both been moved out to live with Deshanna until Ella could control her abilities and Lara proved to have the magical potential of a turnip.

“Was it templars?” she asked, sitting up.

“No. I was… I was the one who…” she trailed off, unwilling to even say the words. I killed three people and tortured another. “It felt real.”

“It might have been real. A Fade memory. Who were you? What was her name?”

“I was… Rajasha. A scout in the Ancestor War.”

Ella let out a slow breath. “Just somebody else's life, then. It's fine. Fade dreams take longer to pass.”

“I didn’t know I could be so…” What word was she looking for? Angry? Violent? Murderous? Ellana killed a lot more people as the Inquisitor, but those memories had felt different. “Cruel.”

Ella wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders and pulled her to her chest. “Lara, you aren’t cruel. You cried when you had to fail your first student, and he only showed up for two classes, so you couldn’t be held responsible for it anyway. The Fade can make you feel things that aren’t you.”

"I didn't cry." She hadn’t thought about Feron in ages. She definitely had cried. “Do you think he ended up graduating? I should have reached out to him harder, gone to his dorm or something.”

Ella covered her face in her hand. “Come on. I think the sun is going to be up any minute, and I’m going to need coffee if we’re going to be this stupid today.”

Lara let the blinding light of her phone sear her retina to see a message from Solas. Guilt bubbled in her stomach. Did he remember the incident? Or had that version of him died, too? What did it even mean to say that he had died when he clearly hadn’t? She couldn’t ask him without him knowing that she remembered. He would know that among the other versions of herself, she contained this one as well. That she was cruel.

A sweatshirt hit her in the face and she miserably put it on. Coffee would help. And a pastry. With walnuts. It was harder to feel like a bloody warrior in the woods while holding a coffee with a face full of sticky walnuts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, friends. Solas was fine. Don't worry about it. He got better.


	28. Chapter 28

Lara’s dreams seemed to have become even more vivid, but she had none that were as violent during the rest of her family’s visit. She even managed to avoid any talk of her supposed relationship, possibly because Solas agreed to avoid her for the duration of their stay. That is, until the last day. She chewed on a pen while staring at a strange paper out of Denerim about the nature of matter. Matter could appear out of nothing, it postulated, as long as a second, identical particle also appeared in the Fade. The author suggested that this was how the universe came to be, something out of nothing, but always in balance. She was circling a particularly suspect equation when a gentle cough got her attention.

Her father had sat across from her in the hotel lobby while she read. Her family was packing, and she was using the time to try to get some work done after their exhausting visit. Physics lectures, lectures from Deshanna, tourism, lab work, family meals and sharing a bed with her sister like they were children again meant she had hardly had a moment to herself. _Why would there need to be balance between Fade matter and normal matter?_

Her father cleared his throat again rather insistently, and suddenly Lara realized the two of them were alone, and it was by design. He was about to dole out some fatherly advice. Fatherly _dating_ advice. Lara eyed the door, and when his hand went to his pocket, she vowed to run, foot be damned, if he pulled out condoms or even worse, a Dalish promise ring. She wasn’t sure what she and Solas _were_ , or had been or would be, and she just wasn’t ready for more input on the matter. Especially from her _father._ Thankfully, when his hand retreated from his pocket, it held only his phone.

“You know, your mother had a boyfriend when she lived in Wycome during her nurse training.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she blurted out, thinking to stop the conversation in its tracks, “We just spent the night together, that’s all.”

The transformation of the expression on her father’s face was slow. First puzzled, briefly stormy, settling on embarrassed. He ran his hand through his hair, and Lara realized what she had just said to him

“By the blighted Dread Wolf, I just meant I stayed the night at his place, not that we…” She dropped her head into her hands. “We were talking, and we must have fallen asleep. And then you found us. And everyone assumed… but he’s not… there’s nothing…”

Lara wondered what happened to a mage who Fadestepped directly into the pavement and just stayed there. She suddenly had an appreciation for the self-control her sister exhibited at all times. Perhaps it was good she had no magical talent.

“So you and Solas aren’t… an item?”

“No.” This wasn’t exactly a lie.

“And you spent the whole night… talking?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“Physics. The Fade, mostly.”  This also wasn’t technically a lie.

“And then you fell asleep.”

“Yes.”

He ran his hand through his hair again and sighed deeply. “Your sister told me what Solas did for you after the explosion. She also implied that there were… feelings there. I’m inclined to like anyone who saves your life. But if he’s staying up all night talking to you about _physics_ , well, this is more serious than I thought.” Lara started to protest, but her father cut her off. “I’m going to tell you this story anyway. Your mother had a boyfriend in Wycome. A _human_ boyfriend.”

Lara dragged her face out of her hands. “She _what_?”

He looked nervously toward the elevators. “She doesn’t want you to know this. Don’t tell Ella. But she had the opportunity to lead a different life. I don’t know much about the man, but I know she broke his heart.”

Lara had never considered who her mother was before she was a mother. Her parents’ union was fundamental, a constant in the equation of Lara’s life. She had never thought of the hard decisions that might have led to it. She thought of all the middle-aged men she’d passed on the streets of Wycome and wondered if any of them had been him. “So you’re saying that eventually I’ll get this Orlais thing out of my system and go home? Find a nice Dalish boy?”

It seemed unlikely. A thousand years of history were leaking into her head, and in almost all of it, she left her clan. Purposefully or accidentally, out of necessity or foolishness, she left. And through violence or misfortune or pure wanderlust, she never went back.  

“No. I’m saying you aren’t the first Dalish to face a difficult decision. And that you have a _choice_. If your grandparents had said to your mamae that she better come home or else, you never would have been born. It’s your choice, and no one can take it away from you.”

She nodded slowly. She knew, no matter what, she would be disappointing someone. It didn’t feel like a choice at all. Solas felt like an inevitability. Ellana made the choice years ago, and when given the option, she made it again and again.

“I have something for you.” Her father reached into his bag, and Lara prepared to bolt. “They said this one was particularly tricky,” he said, handing a wooden box to her. “Hardest one they had. I fiddled with it for a week and couldn’t get it open. So I think, what, twenty minutes?”

She held the puzzle in her hand, and it did look like the most intricate puzzle he’d given her yet. “Do you want me to solve it right now?”

“And make your old papae feel even dumber than usual? Open it after we’ve left. It will give you something to do with all your spare time.”

Lara couldn’t stop herself from unlocking the first part of the puzzle before shoving in her bag. Her father snorted. “I swear, I don’t know where you came from. You _and_ Ella. If you didn’t have my nose… Do me a favor, though. If your man can’t solve that box, give him the boot.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, puzzles aren’t the only measure of intelligence.”

“Anyone can learn a few fancy words,” he said with a wave of his hand, “Real problem solving takes brains.”

The rest of her family showed up with their bags, and it was time to drive to the airport. After sampling Orlesian cheese and declaring it was not as good as Dalish brie, her father had packed an entire bag full of it, determined to bring it home to the clan so everyone else could come to the same conclusion. Her mother had settled on intricate lace made in the alienage, which was more easily packed away.

The five of them squeezed into a taxi with all their luggage. She felt guilty, but Lara was relieved that this trip was over, and she could go back to… well her life wasn’t exactly normal. In fact, there were numerous problems she probably needed to address sooner rather than later. But at least she could sit in a quiet lab and then go to sleep.

Lara hugged everyone tightly at the airport, even Deshanna, but suffered some confusion when Ella turned around and got back in the cab with her.

“Aren’t you going home?”

“No, I’m starting my internship.”

“You packed all your bags.”

“Yes, I’m not staying in a hotel.”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “Where are you staying?”

“I’m staying at your place.”

“There’s only one bedroom.”

“Which you aren’t using.”

“That’s because of Cullen!”

“So it’s Cullen’s fault you were sleeping with Solas?”

“I’m not sleeping with him!”

“You’re not sleeping with Cullen?”

“No, with Solas,” she hissed.

“So you _are_ sleeping with Cullen. I never would have guessed.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ella.”

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, though Lara was pleased to know Ella was staying. Still, she wasn’t giving up her apartment. They’d shared a bed all week, and they could share longer until a Ella found her own place. Ella spent the ride tapping on her phone and only put it away when they had arrived at the Ladybird.

“You know,” she said with an air of innocent reflection, “City people have birthday parties.”

“I know.” 

“They also have housewarming parties when they move somewhere new.”

“I’ve lived in cities for the same amount of time as you, Ella.”

“Then you won’t think it weird when I invite you to my birthday party.”

“ _Your_ birthday party?” Ella’s face split into a wide grin. “Yeah, I do think it’s pretty weird to be invited to _your_ birthday party.”

“Good, because my friends think the party is for both of us.”

“ _Your_ friends?”

“ _Our_ friends then.”

“You invited _my_ friends to a birthday party?”

“Well, everyone except for Solas. I thought you’d want to invite him yourself.”

Lara did _not_ want to invite Solas to a party. She wanted to sit in a room by herself. Maybe take a bath. Read a book. Critique a paper. She and Solas still had too much to talk about, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had done to him so long ago. The memories were there, she _knew_ they were there when she was awake, too, but she was afraid of what she would find.

Instead she went to find Cullen.

“Don’t you dare tell me I can’t walk up stairs on this foot yet, because I swear to your Maker that I’ll… I’ll…” She looked at his pained expression and the hand rubbing the back of his neck, and she knew the news was bad. “I’ll invite you to my birthday, and it will be awkward because you won’t know anyone, and you’re going to stand in a corner on your phone trying to pretend you’re having a good time when you are _not_.”

He sighed. “I guess I better find you a card or something.”

She huffed out the details of the party and scooted away. Without the ability to climb the stairs, her sister’s claim to the apartment became stronger. That, and the fact that she’d _never_ paid any rent. She came to Orlais to do _physics_ , not throw parties or break bones or entertain her sister or dream, constantly, incessantly about “past lives,” or—

A clearing of the throat interrupted her train of thought. She whipped her head around to find Solas, sitting in the campus gardens again, though the autumn winds had taken most of the flowers with them. This time she found him in Antiva.

 _Or fall for ancient instructors_ , she thought bitterly. She wondered if he still bore the scar on his thigh, and realized that Sylvas, Lahlas, and Illeana all had detailed memories of his unblemished thighs, and the heat began to rise on her cheeks.

“Lara? Would you like to sit down?”  

 _No,_ she thought as she took a seat on the bench, careful to leave ample room between them.

“Has your family returned home, then? There is something important I need to discuss with you, but not here.”

Something important. Which meant it probably wasn’t about Lara. Lara didn’t really have important things on her plate. No one had urgent theoretical physics needs. She didn’t know how to lead or to fight or to survive on the land. She didn’t have the confidence of her past selves. She had a broken foot and a dissertation proposal, an apartment she couldn’t live in and wasn’t even paying for. Her bank account was perpetually near empty. Lara, in short, was kind of a mess.

“It’s my birthday,” she blurted out. “It’s probably the only thing about me that is just… me.”

He did not seem surprised. “Happy birthday, Lara.”

“It’s not really… you know we don’t really _do_ birthdays, but there’s going to be a party later.”

He tilted his head. “Hawke relented on keeping it a surprise?”

“What?”

Solas frowned. “I was informed that there was a surprise party planned for you tonight. I relayed to Hawke that the Dalish don’t usually celebrate birthdays, and she said that’s why it was going to be such a good surprise.”

Lara blinked. Then she started to laugh. “Void take me, I was so annoyed with Ella, but I was never getting out of having a party today, was I?”

“I think, given the difficulties of your year so far, your friends wanted to rally around you.”

“I’d rather just have a hot bath,” she muttered.

“You could use mine, if you like. Just tell me when and it will be ready for you.”

 _Magic in the water, his hands on her back. The smell of lavender pervading everything._ She wasn’t even sure whose memory that was. She dropped her face to her hands and rubbed her eyes.

“Lara?”

Ever since she’d met him, he’d been kind offers in a soft voice, and it was _easy,_ too easy to accept. “I can’t think when I’m around you. It’s all other people’s memories and thoughts and it’s confusing, and I can’t _think._ And thinking is all I’ve ever been good at.”

“That is not true.”

“I mean _me_ , Lara. Not... not the rest of them.”

“So do I. You have the ability to turn your thoughts into action. You are a wonderful teacher. You have published your work. Making brilliant thoughts accessible is no small feat.”

She wanted to believe him. Creators, she wanted to _touch_ him. She wanted to feel his hand on her face and breathe in the smell of his neck and feel _comfort_.

She shook her head. “How do I know that my feelings are mine, and not the memory of someone else’s feelings? How do I trust myself?”

They sat quietly in the gardens, facing forward. Students passed, bells chimed. Lara knew she should head to the lab, accomplish something today. Find a space away from Solas. But save the birds chirping, it was quiet here.

“Do you recognize their calls?”

She sighed. Lara didn't, but Illeana did. “There’s a golden oriole hiding somewhere. The woodpecker is closer.”

“Do you feel the urge to go find them? Golden orioles are hardly a common sight.”

“Listening is enough. It’s pleasant.”

Solas smiled. “Illeana loved birds. She said she always felt the most hopeful while watching them fly. In a city like this, she would have felt hemmed in and nervous, and she would have taken every opportunity to watch a pretty bird.”

Lara understood what he was getting at. She remembered the feeling. Learning to draw had been a labor of love—to study and immortalize flight on a page. A meditation on a beautiful subject when the world around her was chaotic and loud. She could imagine the wind on her face, rising and falling and gliding with the sky. Birds were an escape and an expression of joy. But to Lara, birds were just birds.

Solas was not just Solas. Her feelings, as confused and tangled as they were, were probably her own. They might be fortified by the experiences of others, enhanced and embellished with history, but they were hers.

She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. His smile was tentative, surprised. “I don’t want to talk about the others anymore today. I don’t want to _be_ the others today. I want to be just Lara.” 

“Alright.”

“And you can just be…” She shook her head. Even if she hadn’t spent lifetimes with him, he would still be an immortal ancient elf. Hopeless.  “My ex-student who I kissed twice.”

He leaned in closer to her. “It was more than twice.”

“On two different days, then. And who might want to consider if there will ever be a third.”

“Point taken.”

She looked at his fingers interlaced with hers. She wasn't ready to kiss him again. It felt like a promise. Or maybe more like a surrender to a life she never anticipated. A choice. She sighed. “I should go to lab. But I’ll see you tonight? At my first ever birthday party?”

“I will be there.”


	29. Chapter 29

Telling Solas she didn’t want to think about her other selves was one thing, but stopping their memories from bubbling up as she walked into her own party was another. She had been so focused on herself and on Solas that she hadn’t really registered that she’d known all of them, _all_ of them before. People approached to wish her a happy birthday, and she was overcome with truly terrible images of what had happened to them. Him, branded a traitor and banished. Her, overcome with sickness from the Blight. Another turned into a red lyrium monster. Thedosian history was a horror show.

Hawke came over to give her a hug, and Lara suddenly vividly remembered punching her in the face once. She practically jumped away from her and gratefully threw back the shot glass thrust into her hand.

She didn’t seem to be the only one feeling tense. Everyone was drinking heavily, laughing too hard. Arguing, too. It was _loud._ Like someone had cranked the music up so they wouldn’t have to talk to each other and so everyone just started shouting. Ella led a drinking game outside, in seemingly high spirits. Oblivious, maybe. At least one person should have a good birthday.

Lara tried to find the quietest corner of the bar, wondering how long she had to stay before she could escape, and she ran straight into Dorian’s back. He was walking backwards and talking, yelling, really, arguing with Bull, and Lara forbid herself from remembering doing anything cruel to Dorian. This did not stop a memory of Bull sweeping her feet out from under her and knocking her flat on the ground. She winced as Bull pushed past her, pulling air into her lungs as if he had whacked it out of her just then, and she signaled Thom for another drink.

“It’s what we do, you know,” Dorian said, watching her throw it down. “We argue, we make up, we forget. Rinse, repeat. And the rinsing really is an important step after all the repeating.”

Lara eyed him. Shoulders tense, fist clenched, he didn’t look as carefree as he sounded. It wasn’t like him to defend himself for no reason. “So what’s different this time?”

Dorian shook his head. “I have no idea what we were just arguing about.”

Lara considered another drink. She hadn’t _planned_ on being completely drunk for this party, but now that she was on her way, it didn’t seem like the worst idea. And she was slowly beginning to wonder if Solas wasn’t coming. She had hoped… well, it didn’t really matter what she had hoped. Even if he had shown up, the atmosphere of the bar wasn’t exactly _romantic_ tonight. The music seemed to have gotten even louder, and people were starting to dance.

For the first time, she was grateful for her cast.

Dorian made the decision for her—pushing her into a chair and slamming two drinks down on the table. She wasn’t even sure what he had gotten her, but she didn’t really care. She threw it back.

 “Good to see the Dalish celebrate birthdays much the same as we do.”

“We don’t, actually,” she said, putting down the now-empty beverage and swallowing hard against the burning.  “We all celebrate at the new year. Everyone celebrates together, making it through another year. Different day than your new year, though.”

“So on your actual birthday, there are no traditions?”

“No.”

“Ah, then I shouldn’t have made you this, then?” He pulled out a knitted scarf. “I know I found the winters a bit of a shock when I moved here, so I thought I’d make it especially fluffy.”

“You made this?” she asked, wrapping the scarf around her neck. The yarn was incredibly thick and soft. Dorian nodded, and she laughed. Giving gifts might not have been a Dalish birthday tradition, but hand-crafting something practical and gifting it to someone special certainly was part of _other_ traditions. “Why Dorian, I didn’t know you felt that way about me. I’ll need to get the approval of my family, of course, but I accept.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around her neck while Dorian frowned with sudden understanding.

“What possible objections could they have toward me? I was a brilliant son before I was kicked out of my family in shame." He finished his drink and took a breath, ridding his face of the scowl that loomed there. "You couldn't do better, anyway,” he sniffed.

“Not in a thousand years. Thank you. It is by far my favorite birthday present.” 

“I take that to mean you received nothing else today?”

She nodded. “No. Wait. Actually, yes.” Lara pulled out the puzzle box from her bag. “It wasn’t because of my birthday, but my father gave me this.”

“A small wooden box. How austere.”

She unlocked the second mechanism. “It’s a puzzle. I guess it must be a Dalish thing. You have to solve it to open the box.”

“And there’s a secret treasure inside?”

“Not usually. The process of solving the box is the present. Entertainment. Though, when I was a kid, he would put sweets inside.”

He shook it, and she could hear the rattling. Dorian raised an eyebrow. “How quaint and dreary clan life must be. Though I suppose I must get used to it for the sake of my future wife. May I?”

Focusing on the puzzle would stop her from remembering awkward things about everyone around her. Dorian caught on to the logic of it quickly, but the alcohol slowed them down. Despite the place being full, Thom didn’t let her glass sit empty. Birthday perks. Progress stalled, and after ten minutes of futile attempts, threats of magic were made, explosions or simply a little force. 

“You cannot solve this with magic! You are missing the point!”

“I will not be thwarted by carved elven wood!” Dorian gesticulated so wildly the box flew out of his hands. Lara watched the arc with horror, but a hand whipped out and snatched it from the air. 

“Do you need this destroyed?” Hawke asked, turning it over in her hands.

Dorian’s hands started glowing with magic. “I’m just going to use a little bit of force and—”

“Nobody is going to smash my box!” Lara shouted.

Hawke choked on her laughter, spilling her drink all over the floor. “What, not even Solas?”

Lara thumped back into her seat, not even realizing she had stood up. “He’s not even here. Anyway, he doesn’t smash things. He’s gentle with his hands.”

Hawke somehow smiled even wider and leaned closer to Lara. “Tell me more about his gentle hands.”

Lara could have talked for hours about them. Elegant, strong, deliberate. The words started pouring out of her mouth with no regard for her dignity, privacy or even possibly grammar. And then it wasn’t just his hands she was talking about, but his face. His shoulders. His legs. Hawke had sat down at their table, encouraging her to continue. "And his feet? Any thoughts about those? What about his neck?"

The deluge was stifled by Dorian crying out, “Solved it!”

The lid of the box popped open, and he tipped it into his hand. To her horror, a Dalish promise ring rolled out.

“Oh. Shit.” She recoiled as he put the ring on his finger. This engagement was suddenly a lot more official. In fact, reflecting on her father’s words from this morning, Dorian now had her family’s approval. He stroked his chin thoughtfully while admiring his newly beringed finger.  “Are we married now?”

She looked at him dead in the eyes. “Yes.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “A toast to our nuptials, then.”

“What, no ceremony?” Hawke demanded. “No celebration or party or _style_?” She fluttered a hand to her chest in dismay. “ _No bachelorette party?_ ”

Lara was trying to remember the old divorce traditions. The first step would be to give Dorian back his scarf. She tried to unwrap it from her neck, but this was somehow more complicated than it should be. And it was very soft. She could probably wait until she had procured a better scarf before officially divorcing Dorian. And it’s not like anyone knew they had accidentally bonded. As long as Ella didn’t know, she was probably fine.

Then Hawke got on the bar to make an announcement, and the rest of the night was kind of a blur.

~~

Solas checked his watch as he walked into the Ladybird. He knew he was tardy for the event, but the general state of inebriation would indicate he was much later than anticipated. Attaining lyrium was more difficult than it had been even only one hundred years ago, partly because he hadn’t bothered to update his contacts since then. Still, he’d managed to secure enough to get himself through the rift again in better condition. It had only taken time.

It was only 10:30. In his experience, modern parties were still only beginning at this time. _This_ party, however, was well past its expiration date. Tables and chairs had been pushed aside to make a dance floor, although couples were not dancing so much as rhythmically keeping each other from falling. Empty containers and glasses were littered across every surface, as were bodies. Broken glass covered the floor closest to the bar, as did plates and bowls. Strangely, someone had thrown uncooked rice all over all of it. And there was cake _everywhere_.

He gingerly stepped over sticky clumps of frosting as he sidled through the throng.

He found Lara sitting alone, head in her hands. Her hair was wet, leaving dark spots on her shoulders. With each movement, she seemed to shed grains of rice onto the floor. The bulk of cake carnage was centered on this area.

When she spotted him, she lurched to her feet, a smile slowly broadening across her face.

“You came,” she sighed.

He shook his head gently at her state. “You are _very_ drunk.”

She nodded, then dropped her face into his chest. Which seemed about right. He glanced around for the bartender, but Thom had been arm-wrestling the Iron Bull when he arrived. This seemed to have devolved into just hugging now. _Someone_ was attending to the bar, however.

“Sera, may I please have some water?”

Lara was speaking directly into his sweater, too muffled to make out. She seemed to have a lot to say, but it was just a strange warm hum into his chest. Sera passed him two shot glasses.

“At this time, I think water would be more appropriate for Lara.”

“They’re not for her, they’re for you. You’ve got to be three times sloppier to be at _this_ party.”

He eyed the two women crying to each other at the end of the bar and nodded. He took the first shot, and she began filling a glass with water. He downed the second, and she passed it to him.

“What happened here?”

“Fuck if I know. It was like… like we were a beehive that someone just kicked. Only nobody knew who kicked it, so everyone got shitfaced to stop the buzzing.”

He coaxed Lara from his chest and bid her to drink the water.

“And did it stop?”

“What?”

“The buzzing.”

Sera made a disgusted sound and gestured with her hands. “Look around.”

The point was well made. The only thing to do was to get Lara in bed. He wondered if he shouldn’t be helping get _everyone_ to bed.

“It’s all right. Only drink being served now is water. I tell ‘em it’s vodka on the house and they drink it right down.” Solas eyed her overflowing tip jar and reflected that it was one of her more responsible scams. 

“And why aren’t you ‘shitfaced’ with the rest?”

She shrugged. “It’s always been buzzing for me.”  

He helped Lara get situated on her scooter and escorted her toward the stairs. She stared at them with pure loathing and groaned, “Twenty-seven is the _worst_.”

He laughed softly and put her arm over his shoulder, scooping her up. “The year can only get better from here.”

“You know there are Laras out there who never broke their feet?” she grumbled as he slowly carried her up the stairs, “And Laras who didn’t have to go to a party. And Laras who never married Dorian. Or had cake shoved in their faces.”

Two of those things he already knew about, the last event was apparent from the debris left behind, but the marriage was intriguing. He could investigate it after he put her to bed. “I didn’t know you subscribed to multiverse theory.”

“Mm. If the universe is infinite, everything that can happen has and will happen. Infinitely. In this universe, or others.”

“So probability dictated that you marry Dorian tonight?”

“Random events can line up into a co—co—a real thing happening.”

Solas tried not to think too much about multiverse theory. It quickly devolved into a game of what-ifs. What if he had never created the Veil? What if he had never torn it down? Was there a Solas who never had the pain of being torn apart by Mythal, or watching Ellana be killed by his own machinations? It was easy, on melancholy days, to fall into an abyss of regret and bitterness. He had always tried to keep his thoughts on the future.

It had never occurred to him that the randomness of the universe could be blamed for his drunken decisions at social gatherings.  

“And,” she continued, “I couldn’t refuse him after he got in my box.”

He paused to consider this for only a moment. “Some party.” He set her on her feet outside her door. There were noises from within, multiple voices. The apartment was occupied. He couldn’t make out words, however, and he realized too late that this was because there were no words.

Lara opened the door. Three women in various states of undress were draped over the furniture, enthusiastically expressing their happiness with each other.

Lara shut the door.

She swayed slightly on her foot. “My fucking sister.”

That was currently an accurate description of Ella. He _had_ wondered where she had gone off to. Solas rubbed his forehead. In a universe where he had not shown up quite so late for this party—better not to think of it.  

He picked her up again. “I’ve been sleeping in the back office anyway,” she said with a wave of her hand.

Solas had a feeling that on a night like tonight, an office with a bed in it would suffer from a similar fate as her apartment, and his suspicions proved correct. The office was not available.

Lara rubbed her face. “Just let me… just let me sleep in a booth or something.”

He was not about to let that happen, even if they all hadn’t been covered with cake, rice, and shards of glass and debris.

“Come. Stay with me again.”

She simply nodded. She stopped at the threshold of the bar, however, a look of consternation on her face. She gripped his shoulder, hard. “Solas. Before we go. Just tell me. The women in my apartment—tell me Cassandra wasn’t one of them.”

Solas chuckled and squeezed the hand on his shoulder. “She was not.”

Lara rubbed her face again. “I don’t want to be drunk anymore.”

“I’m afraid only time and sleep will help with that. Let’s go.”

The walk was slow. Lara struggled more than usual with her scooter, managing to catch it on every chipped piece of pavement. She cursed Val Royeaux with every breath and in languages he didn’t know she had studied. He found himself strangely impressed.

“Just… just let me sit down.”

They were less than a block from his place, but he sat with her on a bench. She dropped her head into her hands, and he wondered if she was going to be sick. He started to gather her still-wet hair in his hands just in case, and she looked at him with bleary eyes.  

“This is your fault, you know.”

“Which part?”

She gestured vaguely at herself.

“I did not get you drunk.”

“You were supposed to show up before that happened.”

He smiled. That had never stopped her before. But he wasn’t supposed to talk about her past this evening, and he was going to honor that. “Am I a sobering influence on you?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “We would have snuck out the back before all the nonsense happened. And then…”

“And then?”

“And then you would let me take a bath.”

He had had a similar plot in mind for the evening after she had held his hand in the gardens and dared him to kiss her. It was possible that he had spent part of the afternoon purchasing candles in hopes of inspiring a certain mood. He may even have tidied his room in the potential outcome that she would stay over at his place. If things had gone well. Which they had not.

“Ah. I _am_ sorry for being late.”

They fell into silence. Lara seemed to have no desire to move from the bench, but the late autumn air was chill, and he worried about her wet hair. Before he could usher her to bed and warmth and forthcoming sobriety, she asked, “Which one of us has it worse? The one who forgets or the one who remembers?”

Solas had time over the years to consider this. His memories of their adventures and joy were always tempered by the times of loss and grief. There was an incompleteness to his life when she was absent and constant anticipation of her return. He had wondered if, knowing he would still meet her again, he would trade those memories away to live a life liberated from grief and waiting. The thought was hard to bear.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked quietly.

She shifted uncomfortably, taking her head from his shoulder. “No.”

“It is difficult to describe the feeling of finding the woman you love after a long absence, and knowing that you mean nothing to her, not yet. Not anymore. There is a deep loneliness in unrequited love. It has inspired books, movies, songs…  though my situation is, as far as I know, unique.”  

She rested her head back on his shoulder, scooting herself to be even closer to him. Whether it was out of cold, or pity, or a genuine desire for closeness--he did not know, but he was grateful for the press of her body as he placed his arm around her shoulders.

“To love another person is to become a scholar of them, simple things like their likes, dislikes, habits… anatomy. Deeper things, like their fears and motivations. The wrinkle in their brow that only appears when they are truly angry. The best way to soothe them after a gutting defeat. Every challenge in life allows one to see them in a new light, and it is beautiful. And to lose them is to be filled with precious knowledge for which the world cares nothing. I have carried that knowledge with me for years, and I have been lucky. I have found you again, and I can learn you anew.”

He wondered if he had put her to sleep with his words. His shoulder was now wet from her hair, but he found he no longer particularly wanted to move.

Lara shifted, wrapping her arms around him in a sideways hug. “You have it worse,” she whispered.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Come. We both need sleep.” 

He thought of the first time he saw Ellana truly smile, a moment in Haven when her guard was down and her body was loose, not poised to flee, a smile that reached her eyes and demanded that he smile back at her, and he did not agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that moving across the country is exhausting, and it's really hard to write when your brain is asleep. Yesterday was the first day I came home from my new job and didn't just collapse. So I'm hopeful that writing will come a little more easily now.


	30. Chapter 30

Lara opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. Her eyelids had been replaced with sandpaper during the night, she was sure of it. And that wasn’t the worst thing that had happened at her stupid human Orlesian birthday. She shouldn’t be allowed to drink. She was twenty-seven, or possibly eight hundred and twenty-seven, and she should know better. Her head was swimming, her belly was doing something altogether worse, and she simply had to live like this. Hungover.

Now that she was unfortunately and miserably conscious, she might as well determine where she was. Not in her little apartment, or on the air mattress in the office, or in lab. She was in a bed. A familiar bed. Solas’s guest room.

Right. Because of all the options for last night, she had chosen the most embarrassing route. Get way too drunk early in the night, make life altering decisions, get hosed down, and then see the man she was hoping to hold hands with, or spend eternity with, or see naked, or just, for once, have one normal, regular interaction with. Or whatever.

She considered groaning. It might make her feel better. It would, at the very least, express her current feelings about the world and her place in it, but it also might encourage her churning stomach to do more than roil. Someone had thoughtfully left a bucket by the bed.

She groaned.

There was a knock at the door.

She croaked out an answer, though even she couldn’t tell if it was permission to come in or a request to be left alone. Solas opened the door a fraction.

“A long life has given me a chance to perfect hangover cures. May I?”

She grunted out a definite affirmative this time, and Solas entered the room with a tray. She groaned again when she realized there was food on it, but he handed her a glass.

“First you must drink this.”

She sat up, grains of rice scattering across the bed. She sighed. The glass looked very large, and she was unsure she could or should drink anything ever again.

“Trust me.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Yesterday she’d felt as if just kissing him would mean a lifetime commitment, and now she was married. In a week or two she’d be divorced. And after that, she’d probably end up in a cult or a member of a traveling circus, or maybe back in the Fade again. It was impossible to know where her terrible decisions would land her. And she was worried about kissing someone? When she’d already kissed half of Orlais?

She took the glass. The drink was bitter, though no worse-tasting than her own breath. The effect on her stomach was immediate, and she realized her body was starved for water, so she did as she was told and finished the glass.

Now she felt only as if she had been hit by a car and not run over repeatedly.

“Thank you.”

Solas held out his hands, a faint glow emanating from them. “May I?”

She nodded and the room spun a little. He placed his cool hands on either side of her face. She closed her eyes to the blue glow and wondered how many times he had done this for her before.

How many times had she made an utter disaster of herself and he had responded with kindness?

“Why is drinking even a thing?” She asked as his fingers worked her temples. “We know with 100% certainty that after it’s done, we will feel terrible. It’s not a gamble, it’s a certainty. There are like three things that are certain in the universe. And somehow when someone thrusts a drink in my hands, I think, maybe this time I won’t end up married to a labmate feeling like I swallowed a porcupine whole.”

“Have you done that before?”

“Swallowed a porcupine? No. The quills are valuable. It would be such a waste.”

He pulled his hands away, finished. “Married a labmate.”

She picked at a grain of rice on the bed. It was time to fill him in on the details. “I suspect you have questions about all of that.”

He stood up and moved to open the curtains in the room, letting in sunlight that wasn’t too painful on her eyes. “I think I have actually solved most of the mystery of last night. From what you told me, a series of improbable coincidences resulted in a proposal and an acceptance. You married Dorian in what must have been a very cross-cultural event based on the debris. The shattered glass was from Nevarran traditions, whereas smashing of plates is from Orzammar. Scattering rice is an Orlesian custom, and I can only imagine Dorian attempting to feed you cake in the Fereldan fashion resulted in a cake battle. You were clean and wet when I arrived, so you must have showered.”

He finished his speech standing in front of her, hands behind his back. Lara grinned up at his smug face. “Very clever. But you got two details absolutely wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Rather than shower to get the cake out of my hair, Sera just hosed me down with the soda water gun from the bar.”

Solas nodded gravely. “Of course.”

“And that’s not how the cake fight started. The Iron Bull gave Hawke a saber from… somewhere… and she stabbed it. Or thwacked it, really. The frosting splattered everywhere, and, well…”

Solas scratched his chin. “Ah. Kirkwall weddings. I had thought that tradition rightfully forgotten.”

Now that the suffering of her body wasn’t such an imminent concern, a memory itched at the back of her brain. Something bad happened. Or something important, at least. “Solas. My apartment—”

“Cassandra was not there,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’ve asked you that already?”

“This is the third time.”

He placed the tray of food in front of her, and she still hesitated. Putting food in her tortured body seemed a large risk.

“Trust me,” Solas repeated, “You will feel better when you eat.”

She looked at the eggs on their bed of toast and back up at him. His face could be so hard-- sharp cheekbones that sometimes left his cheeks sunken, the strong jaw that made him seem cast from marble—and then sometimes so soft—gentle eyes turned downward, the slow curve of his nose, the fullness of his lips. He had chosen softness this morning. Lara was keenly aware that she had not yet brushed her teeth, and silently kicked herself for it. “Alright,” she said, taking the fork, “I’ll trust you.”

~~

Lara emerged from her room, cast thumping on the hardwood floor. Solas turned to ask her if she was supposed to be walking on it, but the words died in his throat when he caught sight of her. She was wearing his clothes. It should not come as a surprise; after all, he had laid the clothes out for her, but the sweater’s V-neck fit her much differently than it fit him. Better, really. She would have to keep it. He tried not to think of how last night could have gone very differently and resulted in the same sight—Lara fresh from the shower, wearing his clothes, smiling at him. He steadied himself with a deep breath.

“Was I wearing a scarf last night when you got me?” she asked, running her hand through her wet hair.

He found his voice. “Should you be walking?”

She looked down at her cast like she’d never seen it before. “Shit. I knew I was forgetting something. Don’t tell Cullen.”

“You did not have a scarf,” he called after her as she disappeared back into her room.

She wheeled out of the room scowling. “That’s going to make it a lot harder to get divorced.”

Lara’s past selves had been married before, but this was the first time she had gotten married _after_ meeting Solas. It was a slight blow to the ego. “The fact that your husband went home with Cullen last night doesn’t facilitate the process? Or annul it?”

“Cullen? Really? Guess he had a better time at my party than I thought he would.” She held her chin in her hands in thought. “I’m pretty sure I’m still married, though. Maybe if he gives me back the ring…”

“You gave him a ring?” That bristled a little.

She waved her hand while obviously avoiding his gaze. “My papae did. Sort of. It’s not important. Ella can probably dissolve the—is that a Veil network coupler?” Her eyes had landed on the old artifact, and her face transformed into pure delight. “How did you get one? Right, ancient, probably just picked it off the ground somewhere. Does it work? Can I see it?”

The questions came without room for a response. Lara already had the cabinet open before even pausing for a breath. “I’ve only seen one once before, in Wycome. Professor brought it out for a class. He had a program to transduce the waves into sound so even us nonmages could hear it.”

She picked it up and held it to her ear. His voice startled her into putting it down onto the table. “And what did you hear?”

She smiled at the memory. “At first, it was such a clashing mess, but then there was suddenly order in it. It doesn’t make any sense, but it felt like I was listening to a map. Not directions, but like the sound had a shape, and it was the shape of a place.” She looked at him nervously. “That doesn’t sound too crazy, does it? Everyone else said it was like static.”

“It does not sound strange to me, though most mages describe magic as singing. The Veil to me is more like, well, a cloth. One that holds back a symphony.”

“You must miss it. The Fade doesn’t sound like anything in my dreams but--” she made a face. “Ella has always said I was tone-deaf. Can you even have a tone-deaf mage? Dorian said when he was a child his father rang a tuning fork in his ear every morning and every evening, so now he has perfect pitch.”

“It’s an old Tevinter superstition. Less odious then most. I do not think magic confers musical ability to mages, however.”

“I guess it’s easier for people who can actually hear it, but when I first learned about the Veil, it felt impossible. Waves traveling through my body at all times, holding back all magic and memories and emotion and spirits? And they are somehow occupying the same space that I am? Ridiculous. But then I realized it’s essentially wifi.”

“What?”

“Wifi. Invisible, always around, and if you have the right tools to access it, all the information in the world is ready for you, as is long-distance communication through multiple modalities, the dreams and thoughts and prayers of people from across the entire world, and endless unwinnable battles. And nothing is every truly erased.”

“So in this metaphor the Fade is the Internet.”

“Yes, although I guess that would make the Veil sort of an anti-wifi. More of a firewall. And mages have built-in VPNs.”

Solas blinked at her. He reminded himself that she was not mage, and she was very young, and could not be blamed for comparing the _Fade_ to the _Internet_. True, one would think that the obvious comparison for a physicist would be dark matter or dark energy, or even the radiation that unceasingly passes through all bodies unnoticed, but she went with the _Internet._  He pinched his brow. “And does that make me your user interface for the Fade? Touch here for fire and here for ice?” He held out each hand, and to his surprise, she took the offer literally, pressing her fingers into his left palm and choosing ice. He obliged her request, closing his hand over hers, summoning a light frost to her skin until she shivered and tried to pull away with a laugh. He held on, bringing her hand to his mouth and warming it with magically heated breath. She shivered again, though this time, he suspected, for an altogether different reason.  

He released her, and though she pulled her hand away, she stayed close. “The metaphor isn’t um, it isn’t perfect,” she stammered, dropping her gaze from him. The smile on her face was intoxicating. She shook her head, as if to refocus herself. “Anyway, we were assigned a project. Write an algorithm to visualize the Veil. It was pretty fun, actually. If we made it sensitive enough, we could actually _see_ tiny fluctuations and weak points. And I did. Make it sensitive enough, I mean.”

“I’d like to see that.”

He recognized the surprise on her face—a look of someone who wasn’t used to people caring about their interests. “I-I think I still have the code somewhere. I could get it going, if I had a method of connecting to the coupler.” She tapped her fingers on it, drumming out a rhythm as she thought. “I bet my husband has the right kit… I could commandeer some… I suppose what’s his is mine and all that.”

Solas sighed. “Do you really plan on calling him that?”

“Well I don’t want you to confuse him with another Dorian. I could go very old-fashioned and call him my bondmate or just 'my man.' Why, does it bother you?”

She was baiting him, and he let her. Clasping his hands behind his back he asked, “How long _does_ a Dalish divorce take? I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“To a human? About the amount of time it takes for your family to find you and drag you away, I suppose. Though I’m pretty sure that’s what caused the Exalted March on the Dales, so I’d prefer to do this properly.” Gesturing at the artifact again, she asked, “Is this one activated? It’s so strange, Ellana could always tell, like they were vibrating my hand. Not unpleasant, though, like the rifts. Just a warm buzz. Strange to hold it and feel nothing. Though probably good that I wasn’t reborn with an ancient Elvhen curse.”

He had never liked her characterization of the anchor, but she hadn’t been wrong. His magic had cursed her with pain, notoriety, and an objective she couldn’t escape. It led her to an early grave. But this was the first time Lara had spoken freely of her past, and it was like she held his heart in her hand.

“It is active.” He put his hand next to hers and agitated the magic in it, causing the emission of a green flare. He elicited a gasp and a delighted smile for his efforts.

“I’ve never seen it do that before.”

“There are few who know how they work as I do. I… made this one.”

For the first time that morning, Lara was speechless. Her eyes narrowed as she worked out which question to ask him first, but he needed to take this opportunity. He brought a hand up to cradle her face, thumb tracing the edge of the branch of her vallaslin. She stood so still, for a moment there was nothing but the sound of her breath and the warmth of her face and the space that existed between them. He kissed her.

Months of tension and suppressed desire churned under his skin. He held it at bay until her teeth met his lower lip. His tongue delved into her mouth, hands gripping her sweater, _his_ sweater, that clung to her as tightly as he wanted to. Her passion met his own, her arms around his neck, a small moan escaping her.

He needed her closer, wanted to feel her entire body against his. She pressed against him, her hips meeting his, and he pressed back harder. They stumbled together into the table, wooden legs scraping against the floor. A loud clash startled his lips from hers as the artifact fell off the table, bouncing once on the floor before knocking over Lara’s forgotten scooter. The handle plunged through the glass window of the cabinet, raining down shards. As the last bits of glass tinkled to the floor, Solas began to laugh. Lara, eyes wide with a thunderstruck expression on her face, tried to stammer out an apology, but he waved it away. He righted her scooter and set himself to cleaning the broken glass.

“Did we break it?”

It took him a moment to realize she was referring to the Veil coupler and not the shattered cabinet.

“It couldn’t have survived this long if such a fall would cause it harm.”

“Right. Of course. I was hoping to borrow it.”

He picked up the artifact and set it next to her. “I would never stand in the way of your science.”

“No,” she said, hooking her fingers into his sweater and pulling him closer. “But you might distract me from it.”

He leaned in to kiss her and swore loudly at a stabbing pain in his foot. He lifted it to get a look at the offending piece of glass, but Lara shouted, “Don’t pull it out!”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ll get blood all over the floor. I’ll do it.”

He hopped over to the sofa and propped the injured foot on his ottoman.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Lara scooted around the apartment listening to his instructions and gathering supplies. He considered reminding her that he was a capable healer, but he was curious to see what she would do. He also didn’t mind the idea of her tending to him.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “My mother is a nurse and a good teacher. Also, I have skills. Just because I’ve made a series of questionable decisions since moving to Orlais and got exploded that one time doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

She yanked the shard out of his foot, and he winced. Lara, on the other hand, appeared to be chuckling to herself and she applied pressure to the wound.

“Is my bloody foot amusing?”

“I’m thinking about how you survived this long if this little thing could do you harm. An immortal being, brought down by glass.”

“I’ve not been brought down yet,” he muttered. Of course, that wasn’t exactly true. He had been rather thoroughly brought down in the past by another immortal being of immeasurable power. One who currently threatened Lara now. He sighed. It was time to warn her.

“This part’s going to hurt,” she said, and a stinging sensation followed. When she had him bandaged up, she smiled and pointed at her boot. “We match now.”

He wasn’t certain how to start this conversation. _Lara, I believe your favored goddess may try to kill you. She’s done it before. Incidentally, I can remove your vallaslin if you would like._ Instead he asked, “Do you remember how Ellana died?”

He watched her expression change. Surprise as she registered the question, then the open parts of her closed, all the emotion wiped clean. For a moment it was like looking at Ellana herself, the blank canvas she wished everyone to fill with their own perceptions.  

She got to her feet. “No.”

He waited to see if she would elaborate. She rubbed her left hand absently, thumbing over the palm, her face still carefully blank.  

“Try.”

She rubbed her hand harder, driving her knuckles into her palm. “The last thing I remember, I was alone. In Skyhold. I stood on the balcony to feel the wind on my face.”

“And then?” He wanted to still her hands. He didn’t know the exact details of it. He didn’t even know where it happened. She must have been in immense pain. His fault.  

“And then there was nothing.” She turned her face away from him. “Perhaps I had a heart attack. Anyway, I think it’s time I check on my sister. I didn’t tell her where I was going last night and she’s probably worried.”

“Lara, I still need to tell you—”

“I’m going to borrow this now, yeah?” She picked up the artifact and stuffed it awkwardly into the basket of her scooter. He got up and limped behind her as she headed for the elevator.

“Please don’t run away from this. There are things we need to disc—”

The anger now appeared fully and unbridled on her face. “Run away? I’m not running away, I’m _leaving._ I think you of all people would understand the difference.”

He had no response for that. A thousand years ago he carefully planned his conversations with her, but a thousand years ago his life had consisted of hiding, lying, concealing, and ultimately betraying her and failing her. He had the knowledge to save her then, but he kept it from her to save his secrets. He could not make the same mistake again.

She balled her hands into fists and then released them. “I can’t argue with you with a voice that is a thousand years dead. It’s not my anger, or my shame, or…”

Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard. She was holding back tears. The elevator arrived with a jarring ding, and she got in.

“Talking about it might help,” he said weakly, “If not with me, then…” A thought came to him, and with shame he realized he should have told her weeks ago. “Your sister. Ella remembers the past. She remembers Ellana.”

The tears fell from her now, and Solas hated himself for it.


End file.
